Lucky Shot
by La Luna Unita
Summary: When an unknown group attacks the New Avengers Facility, Steve Rogers must leave the premises, with Darcy Lewis in tow. The unlikely duo faces danger from all sides as they try to outrun their enemies and figure out the endgame - before it's too late.
1. Missing the Mark

The punch connected just as Steve stepped out of the elevator, a ringing in his ears replacing the polite chime of the compartment. Instinct took over and he leaned back, dodging the next swing his opponent threw at him. He blinked, his brain catching up to the danger his body already recognized.

The guy who'd hit Steve was enormous. In full tactical gear, a helmet and mask concealed his entire face. He hulked menacingly just outside the elevator doors, crowding the small exit. Steve crouched and came up under the man's guard. He launched a strike of his own, pivoting his hips as he aimed for the man's kevlar vest. The force of his punch pushed his assailant back from the elevator. As the man staggered, Steve slipped past into the broad, brightly lit hallway of the third floor research department at the New Avengers Facility. The man growled and turned to face Steve, rubbing his chest. Just then, the fire alarm went off. Its shrieking siren and blinking red lights gave the man pause, but Steve didn't look away as he set his feet and raised his fists.

"You wanna keep going, big guy?" he challenged.

The man responded by launching himself at Steve, driving him back toward the wall of windows at the end of the hallway. Steve felt the air leave his lungs as he hit the windows with a loud smack. He interlaced his fingers and brought them down on top of the man's head, but the helmet blunted the impact. Steve heard a tell-tale scritch of cracking glass behind him. God, this guy was _huge_.

"Hey, _asswipe_!" shouted an unfamiliar voice.

A red fire extinguisher clouted Steve's assailant over the ear, knocking him sideways. The glass let go at the same moment with a tinkling crash that exploded outward. Steve hovered dubiously in the open air, his toes curling in his shoes as he felt his balance slip. Then a hand gripped the center of his t-shirt and pulled him back to the safety of the third floor.

"You alright, Cap?" asked Darcy Lewis, Dr. Foster's research assistant. She still held the heavy extinguisher with one hand, apparently ready to dish out more blunt force trauma.

"I am now," Steve replied. "Thanks for the save, Miss Lewis."

A mischievous grin split Darcy's bright red lips. "Let's get one thing straight, Cap. I am not, nor will I ever be, _Miss Lewis_. Just call me Darcy. And can you tell me what the hell's going on out here?"

Steve followed the track of her waving hand, focusing on a stairwell door at the other end of the hall as it disgorged two more men in black. They were outfitted exactly like his first opponent. The pair caught sight of Darcy and Steve standing over their compatriot.

"Oh, shit," Darcy said, eyes wide.

Steve heard the crackle of their radios as one leaned his head to the side.

"Target sighted," the man reported softly. They came forward cautiously on silent feet and slowly raised their weapons. Steve glanced to the left, where Darcy's victim lay on the ground, still dazed. Beyond him, a stairwell.

"Darcy, run," Steve urged, his voice low.

She didn't need to be told twice. Dropping the extinguisher on top of the first man, she turned and took off. Steve was right on her heels, crossing the six feet of space faster than the two men could pull their triggers. He pulled the door open, covering Darcy with his broad back as the pair of them spilled onto a narrow concrete landing. Steve heard the patter of bullets impacting the walls behind them and they ducked as the door latched shut. Steve grabbed Darcy's hand when she descended the first step.

"We've got to go up. I need my shield," Steve told her. Darcy shook her head furiously.

"Up is where they go in horror movies, Cap. Never go up," she protested.

"No time to argue," Steve responded.

He yanked her by one arm and tossed her over his shoulder, then climbed onto the waist-high metal railing.

"Cap… Cap, what are you do-_ahhh!_" Darcy screamed as Steve leapt from one landing to the next, turned, then sprang up one more, holding her tightly around the waist as he did so. Darcy kicked her feet and pounded tiny fists into Steve's back as he came down from the railing onto the fifth floor landing.

"Not cool, Cap. _Not cool!_"

They could hear the door burst open two floors below. Shouts echoed around the concrete walls. Steve fumbled for his ID card and pressed it to a reader for the fifth floor and they were in the hall before their pursuers could glimpse them. He deposited Darcy on shaky legs as the door clicked shut.

Darcy punched Steve on the bicep, then muttered as she gripped her own fist and shook it out. "Ow. What the _fuck_, Cap? You gotta warn a girl first."

"Sorry," Steve apologized, taking her hand again and starting off down the hall. "That should hold them for a minute. The door's reinforced and they can't get in without a code."

"Well, how'd they get onto the third floor, then?"

Steve frowned and picked up his pace, Darcy trailing after him.

"They're after me, so you'll be safe in my room once I get my shield and get in touch with Maria, or Nat."

Darcy grimaced as she looked up at him. "They want _you_, but I'll be safe at _your _place?"

"I'll make it real obvious I'm not there."

Steve swiped the card once more and let them into his apartment. He glanced around briefly, then flipped up several light switches. Darcy followed, curious.

"Sooo… do you keep it in like, a special china cabinet, or a coat closet, or…" Darcy stopped at the edge of the entry tile and watched as Steve lifted the bottom edge of an overlarge plasma TV he rarely used. It swung upward to reveal a square safe about three feet wide set into the wall.

"Yeah, that makes a lot more sense," Darcy nodded as Steve tapped in his code and placed his eye to an optical scanner.

The safe opened with a hiss. Steve gripped the edge of his disc-shaped vibranium shield with one hand and took out an earwig with the other. He settled the earwig in his ear and opened a secure channel.

"Anyone out there? Maria? Vision?"

"Mondays, am I right?" replied Sam Wilson, the Falcon. "You okay, Cap?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah, fine. Engaged three hostiles on the third floor. Had some help incapacitating one of them."

He grinned at Darcy, who gave a thumbs up and a 'tell him it was me!' gesture.

"What's the angle?"

"I'm not completely sure. They're targeting me for some reason. I was thinking of finding out why. Hang on a minute." Steve secured his shield on his arm and turned back to Darcy. "You can make yourself at home. Take a breath. You're a civilian, so I need to you shelter in place until the Avengers give the all clear. Do you understand?"

"Cool. Can I raid your fridge?" Darcy's flippant answer as she flounced over to his couch and kicked off her shoes made him blink.

"Uh, yeah. Not much on offer, but whatever's in there is yours. You sure you're alright?"

He closed the safe and lowered the TV, eyes on the young woman who was now pulling her feet up under her legs and searching for his remote control.

"Look, Cap, this isn't my first rodeo. Jane may have been under the impression that this was a quiet place to do research, but I had money on an invasion by aliens or terrorists within the first two weeks." Darcy frowned, pulling at her bottom lip. "I was wrong, though. It's been a whole five months since we moved in."

Steve grinned again and shook his head. Darcy Lewis wasn't quite what he'd expected.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, Miss Lewis, but I need to go clean up the latest invasion. I'll check back with you after. Please don't leave until I come get you, okay?"

"Oh my God, Cap, it's _Darcy_."

"In that case, quit calling me Cap. Steve is fine."

Steve walked over to his windows as Darcy turned on the TV. He pushed the blinds aside with two fingers and looked down. He had a grand view of the front parking lot from his apartment; Tony's idea of a joke, but Steve didn't mind. He stared thoughtfully at an unfamiliar black van, about the size of a surveillance vehicle, parked surreptitiously at the edge of the lot. He pressed his earwig.

"Sam, you got time for a pick up? Fifth floor, my apartment."

"Sure," came the reply. "I'll be there in thirty seconds."

"I'm gonna go now," Steve said to Darcy, sliding the window open. He seated himself easily on the thick ledge, swung his legs over and stood. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he watched for Sam.

Darcy barely looked up from the television. "Later, strange superhuman man who doesn't use doors…" her voice trailed off in the distance as Steve jumped neatly off the window ledge.

A rush of air filled his ears and Sam gripped Steve's outstretched arm firmly, wings straining to lift them both.

"Where we going?" he shouted over the buffeting wind that pressed against both men.

Steve pointed his shield at the black van. "Drop me there!"

Sam brought them in at an angle, using their shared momentum to propel Steve feet first through the passenger side window. His booted feet shattered the glass and drove right into the jaw of a very surprised driver. The man slumped, unconscious. Steve righted himself, holding the edge of the busted windowpane, then crouched and glanced around. No one came running from outside; no one came forward from the rear of the truck.

"I think this might be a pretty small outfit, whoever they are. They only left one guy to guard the getaway," Steve reported into his comm.

"Tiny, but fierce. Got a couple of hostiles over by the Quinjet that have me pinned down," replied Natasha Romanov.

"Need help?" Sam replied.

"I wouldn't say no. I'll lead them outside."

Steve let their voices fade into the background as he stood back up and yanked open the locked door that separated the cabin from the rear of the truck. As he'd suspected, there was unmanned surveillance equipment set into one side and gear and gun cages on the other. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he saw a figure lying in the center aisle.

"Shit," he muttered. "Darcy - how did you-"

Steve knelt next to her, but paused when he took in her unresponsive glassy eyes, the way her hands lay still at her side. He sat back and ran a hand through his hair.

"LMD," he said aloud, relieved.

It hadn't been activated yet. How had this team managed to procure proprietary S.H.I.E.L.D. technology? He gave the Life Model Decoy a critical once over. It had a bruised eye and convincing scrapes on its knuckles and arms. Chestnut waves identical to the real Darcy's hair were tousled into a rat's nest of tangles. One shoe was missing - but he noticed it was wearing the same t-shirt, skirt and tights ensemble the real Darcy had on that day. A sick feeling bubbled up in Steve's stomach.

"Rhodey! Maria! Sam! Nat!" he barked. "I was wrong about the target! Someone pick up!"

"A little busy here, Steve," James Rhodes, the War Machine, shouted. Steve could hear the pops of repeated gunshots in the background.

"Nat, can you get to the fifth floor for an extraction?" Steve pressed.

"No, I can't get clear," she replied.

"Me neither," Sam answered before Steve could ask.

"I'm in," reported Maria Hill. "Oh, wait, I take it ba-" her response was overwhelmed by the sound of gunfire as she defended her position, wherever it was.

Steve stepped past the LMD and pushed open the back doors of the van. Daylight streamed in over the LMD's pale skin. It looked utterly convincing. Steve stared up and up at the far off fifth floor of the New Avengers Facility and sighed.


	2. Duck and Cover

Darcy let her teeth chatter a bit after Cap - no, _Steve_ \- jumped out his own window like a maniac and took off toward the danger. She rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms to release the nerves and adrenaline still rushing through her system. She thought she'd put up a pretty good front - and she wasn't lying, anyway. She and Jane had been through a lot worse than a couple guys with guns. Still, facing mortality was never pleasant, in a way these superhuman types couldn't understand. Darcy hated feeling so helpless. Jane always worked the problem - it was her go-to solution when shit hit the fan. Darcy felt more like a duck-and-cover sort most days. Hide under a desk and cower in fear. Or sit in a secure apartment and go through Steve Roger's watchlist.

_Geez, everything on here is old_, Darcy thought. _Ooh! White Christmas!_

She went to the kitchen to find a snack, then settled in and pressed play. Darcy had already texted Janie, with no response. She wasn't worried, though. Jane was off presenting at a fancy science conference for the whole week, well away from upstate New York.

The movie opened at the end of World War II and she immediately thought of Steve. Her thoughts meandered back to the prior month - the last time Captain America had done something heroic to save her life.

_One month ago -_

_Darcy had long since gotten used to the famous faces around the New Avengers Facility. Earlier in the year Tony Stark, on Erik Selvig's recommendation, had offered Dr. Jane Foster a bit of lab space and all the tech she could want for various projects. Unlimited budget and no oversight? Darcy had been skeptical, but Tony assured them that the only catch was they had to live in the swanky apartments provided on-site. _

_Jane and Darcy dropped their prior commitments and came running._

_They worked steadily on astronomical observations for nearly three months - nothing flashy, just data. Darcy steered clear of the New Avengers program. Several other scientists she met frequented the tall windows over the New Avenger's training wing on their lunch breaks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Scarlet Witch in action, or Cap tossing his shield around. Darcy'd had enough adventure being around Thor during the Convergence._

_So when she ended up on an elevator with Steve Rogers, she gave him a quick side-eye and pulled her phone closer to her face. The man exuded confidence in waves. No doubt he had important business, like meeting Tony about defense systems for the compound or something._

_"Which floor?" he asked politely, his finger hovering over the buttons._

_Darcy opened her mouth to reply when the lights flickered. The comforting hum of the elevator powered down, leaving the pair of them in darkness._

_"Uh...what the shit?" Darcy muttered, tucking her phone in her bag._

_"Nothing to worry about, ma'am," Cap reassured her as she grimaced. "Stark tech is the best in the world."_

_"Ma'am," she grumbled to herself. Come on! She wasn't the one in her nineties!_

_The elevator made an eerie guttural creak and she edged closer to the geriatric beside her. She couldn't see, so she just guessed and then accidentally hit Cap in the arm with her face. Embarrassed, she backed off._

_"Sorry, Cap, didn't see you there." _

_Darcy blushed as she remembered her phone. She pulled it back out and switched on the flashlight app just in time to see Steve pop open the emergency phone panel._

_"Hello?" he said pleasantly, like it was a social call. "Yes. Elevator 3B. Yes. Well, I can open it, sure, but would that damage it? Okay, then. Okay. Got it."_

_Steve hung up the phone and turned to her._

_"They said I can just open the doors, so we'll be out of here in a jiffy."_

_Darcy nodded and did her best not to pull a face at him. She was sure the kindly attitude was meant to put her at ease, but it felt patronizing. _

_"Ooookay, Cap. Lemme know if there's anything I can do."_

_"Hold the light?" he grunted as he placed his fingertips to the seam of the elevator doors._

_Darcy rolled her eyes. Well, if there was one thing she'd learned to do while working with Jane, it was effectively hold a flashlight. She raised her phone up high over his shoulder, doing her best to ignore the way his muscles bunched as he applied outward pressure to the doors. They slid apart inch by inch to reveal… a concrete wall and a few wires dangling here and there._

_"We're between floors," Darcy said, lowering her phone. "That sucks."_

_"Yep. Won't be getting out that way," Steve replied, brushing off his hands._

_He glanced up and around, standing on tiptoe to test one of the ceiling panels. It gave way and he pushed it aside._

_"How do you feel about climbing?" he asked Darcy, who was now shining her flashlight up through the hole he'd created._

_"About the same as being stuck in an elevator, so it's not really an improvement," she replied._

_Another straining whine sounded and Darcy sucked in a breath as the floor shook._

_"I take it back, I love climbing-"_

_A loud snap cut off her words. The pair were flung from their feet as the elevator dropped several inches. A meager beam of light shone through a two-inch crack at the bottom of the doors, but it wasn't nearly enough to crawl through. Darcy scrambled to her feet and put the phone away again, hauling her bag around to rest at her back._

_"We gotta go," Steve said, leaning over and cupping his hands for Darcy._

_She stepped onto his fingers, not quite sure how she would reach the ceiling even with his help. With a startling quickness, Darcy felt herself rise through the air. She clutched at Steve's broad shoulders to steady herself. Steve lifted her easily up above his head and halfway through the ceiling of the elevator; she nearly flew out of his hands as she came waist-high out of the compartment. She leaned over and grabbed for anything that was bolted down, then hauled her legs out one at a time._

_"You, uh, need a hand up?" she called once she was clear of the opening._

_The elevator shuddered again and Darcy hung on to the nearest piece of machinery, resisting the urge to just lay down flat on the unsteady surface. Steve jumped, gripped the framework of the ceiling, and fluidly pulled himself up and over the edge. _

_"Now what?" Darcy asked._

_"Now we go there," replied Steve, pointing to a set of doors five feet above their heads._

_"Stupid Stark and his stupid fancy high ceilings," Darcy muttered under her breath._

_She thought she heard a snort and looked suspiciously at Steve, but she couldn't make out his expression in the gloom. Darcy released her death grip on the elevator's metal parts and cautiously stood up._

_"Okay, come here to the edge. That's it. I've got you," Steve murmured as Darcy picked her way across the top of the elevator. _

_His outstretched hand was warm and calloused when she took it. Maybe the patronizing tone wasn't so bad after all._

_The elevator gave another yawning sigh. Darcy felt Steve's fingers tighten minutely over hers and she suddenly realized he could probably crush her hand to jelly if he wasn't careful. She reached the edge of the elevator, her toes coming right to it, her free hand touching the rough concrete of the elevator shaft. That was when the floor disappeared._

_Darcy's stomach dropped into her feet. She screamed, fully expecting to free-fall into a busted nest of twisted metal and electrical wires at the bottom of the shaft. She couldn't feel anything other than Steve Roger's hand clutching hers. Then her shoulder whacked into the concrete wall, scraping hard enough to rip her cardigan and draw blood. Darcy looked up, eyes wide with confusion. _

_Fucking Steve 'Captain America' Rogers leaned out from the wall like a modern-day Tarzan, gripping the lip of the shaft opening with one hand and holding tight to her with the other._

_A deafening crash shook the elevator shaft and Darcy hiccuped out another little scream. A surge of air raced upward, blowing her hair into her face. The smell was metallic mixed with old mustiness. Darcy sneezed, her fingers tightening. _

_"Hang on, ma'am. Someone's here to open the door," Steve said through gritted teeth._

_"Sure," Darcy choked out. Her arm protested, pain shooting down its length. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire. _

_A few loud bangs and a pop heralded the opening of the door above their heads. Darcy looked up again just in time to see her rescuer grin, haloed by the fluorescent light that spilled out of the doorway. Despite her discomfort, Darcy smiled back. Steve Rogers was way too handsome for his own good, especially when he was in his element._

_"Darcy," she sighed, taking in his ruddy cheeks and warm blond locks._

_"What?" Steve replied._

_"I'm not 'ma'am'. My name's -"_

"Darcy!"

The shout startled Darcy out of her reverie and she dropped her spoon.

"Oh, shit," she muttered looking down at the smudge of ice cream on Captain America's couch, then back up as his door burst open.

"Darcy, you're not safe here. We've got to - hey, is that my New York Super Fudge Chunk?!"

Steve stood in the doorway, his chest heaving and his hair mussed. His T-shirt was ripped right across his pecs, but he appeared otherwise uninjured. She leaned forward, casually covering the ice cream stain with one hand on the armrest.

"You said I could raid the fridge, Steve. It's not my fault you don't hide your stash better." Darcy tried to surreptitiously retrieve her spoon from beneath the couch cushion as she defended herself.

Steve stamped in, grumbling. "I thought a wall of frozen dinners around it would indicate what was off limits. Anyway, grab your shoes. I was wrong about their target."

"Oh?" Darcy put the ice cream pint on Steve's coffee table and tugged on her boots.

"Yep. You need to get out of here." Steve rifled through a low cabinet in his kitchen, tugging loose a black duffel bag. He slung it over one shoulder, not bothering to check the contents.

"Is that a 'go' bag? So you mean out of here as in out of your apartment, or…"

"...out of here as in off-site," Steve confirmed. "You're the target, Darcy. This building is compromised. They know our security protocols and all kinds of hidey-holes."

"Okay, well, that's stupid," Darcy replied, not slowing as she stood and pulled on her cardigan. "I'm not even the best hostage material in the building. There's Jane...Pepper… hell, I think Alan in the mail room has a higher clearance than me."

Her lips thinned as she lined up behind Steve at the door frame. He peered out, glancing back and forth before motioning to her to follow. The hall had that quiet hum Darcy usually associated with safety. Now it sounded ominous in her ears.

"He doesn't," said Steve as they walked swiftly to the stairwell.

"Who what?"

"Alan. He doesn't have a higher security clearance."

"That was a joke, Steve. I make jokes when I'm nervous."

Darcy paused as Steve raised his arm for silence and quietly pulled open the stairwell door. He nodded to her and they passed through.

"There's a helipad on the roof," Steve murmured.

Darcy wasn't sure he'd even heard her. He fumbled in a side pocket of the duffel for a moment, then passed her an earwig. Mystified, Darcy put it in. He pressed his own and Darcy got a double-dose of his voice as he spoke.

"Maria, can you get us a helicopter? I have the target with me: Darcy Lewis - she's Dr. Foster's assistant."

He started upward, Darcy following, but paused on the second step as the response came.

"No go, Cap," Natasha answered. "A couple of these assholes have rocket launchers - you can't leave via the roof."

"This is awfully flashy for a hostage grab," Steve replied, grumbling.

He turned and Darcy stumbled back, out of his way. They went down instead. _Finally,_ Darcy thought.

"So we take a car, right?" she murmured, trying to minimize the echo that bounced around the stairwell. Her boots stamped a betraying clatter on the concrete steps.

"Yeah, I think that's our best option," Steve agreed.

They descended the rest of the way in silence, stopping only when they reached the parking level. Steve paused, interposing his shield between himself and the door, then gently pulled it open. He glanced around quickly, then nodded to Darcy as he passed through.

She tiptoed in under buzzing fluorescents, stifling the urge to hang onto Steve's free arm as he strode confidently forward. He held his key card up to a box mounted on the wall and it released with a click, revealing a few dozen sets of keys. Grabbing one, Steve pressed the key fob and a pair of headlights flickered with a beep.

Darcy heard the squeak of a sneaker before she saw anything.

"Steve!" she shouted, ducking just as a bullet whined over her head.

Steve turned his shield in the direction of fire and grabbed Darcy around the waist, tucking her between himself and the vibranium. Goons in the underground garage fired off more rounds as the pair ran, crouched, to the getaway car. Steve yanked the door open and pushed Darcy in.

"Go!" he shouted.

She crawled over the driver's seat, flinching as more bullets impacted the vehicle. It hardly even shook. Surprised, she settled into the passenger's seat and realized the sleek sedan was bullet-proof as more gunfire sounded. Steve chucked his shield into the back and slammed the driver's side door. He twisted the key in the ignition and the car roared to life.

"Put your seatbelt on," Steve reminded her as he peeled out, tires squealing.

Rolling her eyes but not an idiot, Darcy did as she was told. She lifted the flap of her purse and rummaged around, sighing with relief when she found her chapstick. Muffled impact sounded behind her and she twisted to see more bullets spraying the back window. The sight made her flinch, but the bullets just plinked off like pea gravel and her fear dissipated. Grinning to herself, Darcy shot the finger at the two men running behind the vehicle. Turning back around, she adjusted her seat and yanked the belt into a more comfortable position. The roar of her pulse abated as she looked up at her accidental protector.

"So where to, Cap?" she asked.

"Not sure," he replied. "We've got to get clear and then find someplace safe for a bit while the Avengers figure this thing out."

His reply was conversational, like he did this all the time.

_He's not even winded_, Darcy thought to herself. _Jerk_. She watched as he flipped switches on the console; within moments, the Black Widow's garbled voice could be heard.

Darcy's righteous indignation drained away when they emerged into daylight. A peek in the passenger side mirror made her gasp.

"Steve!" she hollered just as the pair from the garage fired an actual rocket at their car.


	3. Out With a Bang

A slight widening of Steve's eyes was the only evidence that he noticed the implement of destruction speeding toward them as he looked in the rearview mirror.

"Hang on," he intoned grimly as he depressed a button on the console.

The sedan shook slightly as two decoys fired from the rear of the vehicle. Steve swerved sharply to the left in the same moment and Darcy was thrown against the passenger side door. Despite her buckle, she hit her head on the frame. She heard the explosion behind the vehicle through a haze of pain.

"Sorry, Tony," Steven muttered.

They accelerated down a long drive, away from the New Avengers Facility. Steve didn't stop at the exit gate; just blew on through it, wrecking the metal arm that blocked their egress. The sedan spilled onto a public road, tires squealing. The facility behind them disappeared in mere moments.

Darcy sighed and rubbed her head. The spot felt tender under her hair. She'd probably have a bump, but it could have been worse. The greenery of New York's countryside whipped past as Steve took them down back roads she hadn't known about. She had a vague sense that they were heading north. Steve fiddled with more buttons as he drove. Somehow Darcy didn't doubt he could split his attention between the road and the car's interior with ease. The silence in the car stretched out as minutes and miles passed.

"So where are we headed?" Darcy asked once she felt all chance of danger had disappeared.

"Mmm, not sure," Steve mused.

He glanced at her briefly. "Sorry about your head."

"S'okay. I don't use it much anyway."

The edges of Steve's mouth quirked at this, but he kept his eyes on the road. A crackle in the speakers interrupted them.

_"Steve? Captain Rogers? Come in, please."_

"I'm here, Nat. You guys okay?"

Steve slowed at an intersection, but didn't fully stop. He turned right, seemingly on impulse.

"_Everyone's fine. Are you? And how about Darcy?_"

"Minor bruises. Nothing to worry about," Steve replied. "So what's the story?"

"_We don't know. This group managed to get in and get out with all personnel. We haven't noticed a single thing missing, so it probably wasn't theft. There's a few things on fire…"_

"Yeah, can you apologize to Tony for me?"

"He sets a fire in his lab every other week. This is just karma," Darcy muttered.

"Check the ground level parking lot. Is there still a black surveillance van out there?" Steve continued.

_"Mmmmm...yep. Security has it surrounded."_

"Tell them to proceed with caution. Hopefully the driver's still inside. And the LMD."

_"There's a Life Model Decoy? That's way more sophisticated than anything else these guys brought with them."_

"I agree."

Steve paused, his gaze sliding to Darcy for a split second, then back to the road.

"It's outfitted to look like Darcy, down to the clothes she's currently wearing. I want to know where they got that intel and what they planned to do with both the LMD and the real Darcy. Clearly this was a kidnapping attempt - flashy toys notwithstanding. I want to know why."

Darcy's stomach clenched as she processed this information. She felt nauseous. The whole time Steve had been shuttling her out of harm's way, she'd been sure it was a mix up. His report of an LMD with her face on it was disturbing. From what she understood, LMDs could replace a person for months if accurately programmed. She could have been kidnapped, maybe murdered, with no one the wiser - if not for Steve.

Darcy took a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. The events of the last hour were catching up with her. She could feel it as the blood drained from her face and the skin of her forehead and palms grew clammy. She focused on not throwing up or passing out.

_"Hmmm."_

Natasha's tone was contemplative, calm. Darcy envied her poise.

"I'll leave you to your deductions, Nat. I'm sure you'll figure it out. I'll run protection detail for Darcy in the meantime. Let me know when we've got the all-clear to come back." Steve's voice had gone carefully neutral, and Darcy wondered what he purposely wasn't saying in front of her.

_"Alright, Steve. Oh, Tony sends a reminder not to trash the car. Nevermind that it's bulletproof, crash proof, untraceable, communication-secured, and the tires can't go flat. He says it's his baby. Black Widow out."_

Steve cut the communication and looked at Darcy. She knew she was pathetically pale, totally wimping out, even as their safety grew with each mile. He reached out with one hand and touched her shoulder.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, fingers touching the hem of her t-shirt gently.

Darcy took a couple of breaths through her nose and pushed them out of her mouth. "Yeah, fine. Just...a little carsick."

"You want me to pull over? No one's following us, Darcy. I made sure." Steve took his foot off the gas and the car slowed.

"No! No, that's fine. I think...maybe just sitting with my eyes closed? I'll feel better in a bit."

His eyes searched hers for a bare moment before returning to the road. "Sure. I'll let you know when we get where we're going."

They passed a few hours in silence, Darcy falling in and out of a doze. It felt weird to drop her trademark sassy bravado in front of possibly the bravest man in the country, but if he asked, she'd say all the stairs combined with the bump on her head had tuckered her out. They drove primarily north. Steve avoided major highways and finally turned down a quiet route as the sun set. Darcy woke up when he put the car in park and killed the engine.

"Where are we?" she yawned, drawing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Out of the way motel. This should be as good a place as any to keep a low profile."

Steve opened his door and she did the same. He turned toward the motel office, but Darcy stopped him.

"Uh, Steve? Your shirt?"

He looked down and realized he was still wearing his ripped shirt from earlier. He sighed and walked around to the trunk. He pulled a hoodie from the go bag and zipped it up the front.

"Better?" he asked Darcy.

She eyed him speculatively. "Are you asking me as a woman, or…"

Steve rolled his eyes, but she thought she caught the hint of a smirk as they walked in. A bored desk clerk greeted them in monotones. There was exactly one room left - with a single queen sized bed.

"Uhm, we'd really prefer a double if you can," Darcy wheedled, but the man just shrugged.

"It's literally the only room I've got," he insisted.

"Don't worry about it, Darcy. I'll sleep on the floor," Steve murmured.

He pulled several bills from his wallet and slid them across the desk. They retrieved his duffel from the trunk and settled into the motel room. The space was small, dour and spartan: a window next to the door, the promised queen bed next to the window, a dresser with an older television set on top, and a tiny desk and chair.

Darcy sighed as she laid down on the lumpy mattress and found a remote control under her elbow. She was too tired to even pull off her boots. She crossed her ankles, lifted the clicker, and turned on the TV. Steve disappeared into the bathroom. She could hear the shower running as she flicked through cable channels.

_Don't even think about him, Darcy, _she warned herself as an image of Steve's pecs through the shirt came to her mind. Her restraint was pointless, however. The bathroom door banged open and Steve exited in a white motel towel, leaving little to the imagination.

"Good god, you're a tortilla chip," Darcy blurted.

She didn't bother trying to avert her gaze as Steve glanced up from rummaging for a fresh shirt. His short hair was wet and spiky, a droplet or two falling on the coverlet of the motel bed.

"What?"

"Triangle. Shoulder to waist ratio. You're like, equilateral. Surely you've heard this before." Darcy realized she was babbling a bit, but Steve's good humored smile was worth it.

"You...really have a way with words, Darcy."

"I do, don't I?" she mused.

Steve retrieved a gray t-shirt, a pair of boxer briefs (_don't think about the briefs, Darcy)_, and sweat pants from the bag. It seemed like less of a 'go' bag and more of a sleepover bag, she thought. If only it had a comfy tank top and some pajama pants in her size, she'd be good to go.

Steve returned to the bathroom and she looked at the television, trying very hard to focus on Richard Gere as he stridently defended a hapless Edward Norton. Steve reemerged and settled into the institutional-type cushioned chair provided by the motel. It looked highly uncomfortable. He shifted around a few times, but couldn't seem to get settled.

"Steve." Darcy patted the bed next to her. "C'mere. Watch the TV."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, you did save my life like what? Three or four times today? Pretty sure I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Do you want to pick a movie?"

"Nah," Steve replied as he shifted over to the free half of the queen size bed.

He placed his hands behind his head and relaxed against a pillow.

"This is good."

Darcy relaxed too, releasing muscles she hadn't realized were tense. Her head fell further back into the pillow as a commercial break interrupted the movie.

"At the risk of sounding nerdily seductive, are you sure you're okay with the floor? This bed is bigger than I thought it would be." Darcy turned her head and took in Steve's profile, illuminated by the flickering light from the TV.

"Honestly, I prefer it. I know I should be used to normal beds again, but World War II doesn't feel all that far back in my memory and that was all bedrolls - or cots, at the best."

"Ah. Got it."

Darcy didn't quite know what to say in reply to the admission. It was probably the most personal thing she'd ever heard him say.

"So...what was it like when you woke up?"

Steve was silent for a long time, and for a moment, Darcy thought she'd crossed a line.

"It was… well, it was exactly like what waking up in the future should be, I guess. Lots of light, lots of sound. Places that seem vaguely familiar but don't resemble anything you've ever known. Cars are different, clothes are different, people talk different. The stuff you thought was important last week is just a footnote in a history textbook sixty years later."

He sounded unusually serene. Darcy's heart twinged for him anyway.

"That sounds awful," she murmured.

"Takes some getting used to, I'll admit. But you know, I've got good work, good friends, and… it is what it is." Steve shrugged, then readjusted his pillow.

They lay in silence for a while, Darcy's mind barely tracking the movie in her exhaustion. Then, feeling remarkably secure in a rundown motel with the champion of America stretched out beside her, Darcy drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Steve glanced over at the young woman beside him, only to find her eyes closed and lips parted. Her breathing was deep and even, the long waves of her hair spilling down over her shoulders. He took the remote control that had half-fallen from her hand and turned off the TV. Rolling to a seated position, he took the pillow he'd claimed with him and padded silently around the foot of the bed. Steve flicked off the bedside lamp and peered through the blinds into the quiet parking lot outside. Nothing moved other than the odd cricket flying up to challenge a dim street lamp at the edge of the pavement.

He settled himself on the floor across the width of the motel door. If Darcy got up in the night she'd probably step on him, but he'd have to risk it. He wiggled his shoulders into a good spot against the thin carpet and laced his hands over his abdomen, then resolutely closed his eyes.

It felt like mere moments had passed when Steve's eyes flew open in response to...something. Or nothing. He didn't hear a sound. Nonetheless, his instincts had him on his feet before he could blink. He looked toward a digital alarm clock on the nightstand table, but no red numbers cut the darkness. The power was out. He crouched and came to the side of the queen bed.

"Darcy," he hissed, one hand on her forearm.

She woke instantly with a gasp. Steve put himself in her line of sight and pressed a finger to his lips. She began to rise, but he shook his head. Internally apologizing, he grabbed her around the shoulders and tugged her down. Darcy slithered off the bed into the space under the window, her expressive eyes staring daggers at him. Well, he _had_ promised to warn her. Motioning for her to keep under the window line, Steve pressed himself next to the door and waited. The step of a single boot sole on concrete was their only warning before the door burst in.


	4. Third Time's the Charm

The motel room was nearly pitch black even after the thin door slammed open, Steve realized. The light in the parking lot had been shot out. The falling glass had probably woken him.

Steve pivoted, bringing a straight arm as hard and heavy as a tree branch across the doorway. He was perfectly timed to clothes-line their first assailant, dressed in black with night vision goggles that Steve could barely make out. The man went down on his back with a grunt. He sprawled against the door jamb and tripped up two men behind him. Steve struggled with a second man, knocking a pistol and silencer combo from his grip. Unfortunately, the third simply stepped over the man lying on the floor, turned his head to the right, and went directly for Darcy.

"Darcy, watch out!" Steve yelled, his voice loud in his own ears as he cut the silence of the room.

He tried to reach her, but the second man ripped a baton from a holster at his leg, extended it, and landed a solid hit near Steve's ear. His vision exploded with stars, but he kept his feet. The man raised the baton again. This time Steve used his speed to get ahold of it while bringing a poorly-aimed punch in under the man's guard. His chest was padded and protected and Steve didn't make much headway.

Darcy kicked out as the third man held on to one of her ankles. Steve saw her yank her purse off the nightstand. There was a bright flash from the side of the bed where the man was kneeling, then a scream of pain. Her assailant reared back and clawed off his night vision goggles. Darcy savagely kicked again, this time connecting with the man's bare face.

Flashlight held high, Darcy got her feet under her and took off with the frightened grace of a doe, leaping high over grabby arms and out the door. Steve clocked his opponent right in the goggles with a satisfying crunch, then lifted the man fully over his head and slammed him down on top of Darcy's assailant. He snagged his duffel and followed Darcy's lead. Their un-hijackable ride beeped comfortingly as Steve pressed the key fob.

Darcy threw herself into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Steve gave her a cursory glance before throwing the car in reverse and peeling out of the potholed parking lot, gravel spraying behind them.

"Lucky you paid in cash," she quipped, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah. You alright?"

"Yup. Let's just go." Darcy yanked her seatbelt strap down and clipped in.

One of the men ran after them, attempting to get a line on the car with his pistol, but he lowered it without firing a shot. Steve watched in the rearview as the other two scrambled to join him, then he turned the car and they were lost from view.

They drove east until the sky grew light. Steve caught himself fidgeting his thumbs against the steering wheel several times and willed himself to be still.

"What are you thinking about?" Darcy asked from the shadows beside him.

Steve almost jumped. He thought she'd gone back to sleep, her breathing deep and even. But no, her bright eyes glittered from behind her glasses. She watched pointedly as Steve's thumbs drummed a new staccato rhythm on the wheel.

"Just trying to figure this out. Why are they still following us? How did they track us? We know about the LMD, so it's no use trying to infiltrate the Facility anymore."

Steve stopped tapping, again, as they came to a stoplight.

"True. And we know this car is untraceable. So, that's kinda freaky, how they found us at the motel."

Darcy sat up straight and rummaged through her purse, retrieving a hair tie. She finger-combed her thick locks into a ponytail. "Hey, are you hungry?"

Steve's stomach rumbled in response and Darcy laughed. The small town they were passing through had a diner at the next intersection; they pulled into the mostly-empty parking lot and stopped the car.

Darcy took a deep sniff as they got out. "I love the early-morning smell of an all night diner, don't you?"

The free-standing building was light brightly from within. There were only about three patrons - a couple of older men on their way to work, and one blond woman sipping coffee at the counter. The comforting odor of bacon and pancakes that hung in the air brought back memories for Steve - good ones.

"Yeah," he agreed.

A bell jingled when Steve opened the door for Darcy, motioning her ahead of him. At the waitress's cheerful direction, they seated themselves in a booth. Menus, mugs and coffee were quickly provided, along with an extra smile for Steve. He caught Darcy's amused grin as he made some polite small talk with the waitress. In turn, he watched as she added creamer after creamer to her coffee. Its original dark brown became a pale, tawny caramel when she was finished. He made a face when she picked up the sugar and simply held it, upside down, over the mug and let a stream of white crystals pour in.

"What?" she smirked, stirring the concoction with her spoon. "Oh, god, you drink it black, don't you? You're such an old man."

Steve lifted his cup in confirmation and took a sip. It wasn't very strong, but it tasted fine.

"Older _and_ wiser. Coffee is definitely better this way. You should listen to your elders, you might learn something," he teased.

Darcy narrowed her eyes and he chuckled. She stilled, her gaze on something behind him. Steve's instincts kept him from turning, but he was on alert, still amped up from their pre-dawn encounter at the motel.

"What is it?" he muttered, all humor draining from his face.

Darcy's expression turned confused.

"What? Oh! It's fine, Steve. I noticed payphones - over there? By the restrooms?"

She pointed and Steve relaxed. He looked over his shoulder at the public phones, a technological bygone that had all but phased out while he was under the ice.

"I'm not sure we should trust the comm link in the car, until we figure out how those dudes found us. I was thinking… maybe you could check in? See what Nat's found out? They're public lines, so you have to know the number you want to call...and hope the person you're calling doesn't ignore you, nowadays." Darcy sipped her vile coffee, both hands wrapped around the mug.

"I know, Darcy. We had payphones in the '40's."

"Whatever. I'm not a payphone historian. You need like, 50 cents, though. Do you have change?"

Before Steve could pat his pockets, Darcy unzipped a coin purse and deposited a dollar in quarters into his palm. "In fact, just call collect. Tony can afford it, right?"

Steve glanced at the menu as he got up. "Order numbers 14, 15, 16, and a glass of orange juice for me, would you?"

"You got it," Darcy replied without batting an eyelash.

Steve went to the back of the diner, his sneaker soles squeaking on ancient tile. Putting the change in his pocket, he dialed a number string about the length of a phone number, but with a few extra digits. Nat picked up on the second ring.

"Steve?" her voice sounded tinny through the old receiver.

"Hey," he replied.

"Knew it was you. You know Tony almost gutted this old system when he did upgrades last month?"

Steve could hear the smile in Nat's voice. Good. It was a sure bet she hand some news.

"I do know that. I talked him out of it. I really don't want to go to the trouble of memorizing a new set of numbers if I can help it."

Steve leaned against the alcove he stood in and looked back at Darcy. She was drinking coffee and staring off into space.

"Don't be lazy," Natasha teased. "Anyway, you guys are okay? Do you need anything?"

"Just answers, if you have them. I felt certain we'd shaken off our tail yesterday, but they found us again last night. How are they getting information? A mole?"

"You've got it in one. Martin Dreak, in the IT department. He did a pretty good job of covering his tracks, but I caught a transmission about thirty minutes after you two left. I've been listening in for the past twelve hours as he's tracked you through Tony's system and reported to the cell. Hope you don't mind that I left him in play; I needed intel on who we're dealing with. So far, it sounds like ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, if you can believe it." There was a bit of crackle on the old line as Natasha finished.

Steve nodded. "I thought I recognized Billy and Little Johnny in the initial attack. I never would have pegged them for this kind of operation, though."

"Maybe Bil-_ly_ and John_-ny_ got sick of diminutive nicknames," Nat suggested. "Could turn any of us rogue."

Steve laughed. "Little Johnny has three inches and fifty pounds on me. He's not threatened."

"Oh. Anyway, my best guess is it's a group of mercs trying to get off the ground with stolen tech. Make a name for themselves by infiltrating the New Avengers Facility. It doesn't quite fit, though. I can't figure out why they're still targeting Darcy. You obviously foiled Plan A when you found the LMD," Natasha said.

"Keep listening for now. You can feed them false coordinates through Martin, keep them off our trail. When we know Plan B, neutralize the mole," Steve replied.

He glanced back at the table and saw the waitress had delivered his three breakfast plates.

"Check and check, Cap. Widow out." The line went dead.

Steve hung up and returned to the booth. Darcy smiled up at him as she unrolled a napkin and removed silverware.

"Everything okay? Did you reach anyone?" she asked.

Steve sat down and picked up his own napkin roll. "Yep, everything's fine. Nat's taking care of things at home."

"Great, so we can go back?" Darcy pressed.

"Not quite yet. I'll tell you more in the car. Is that okay?" He glanced pointedly at the other patrons as he spoke and Darcy nodded, picking up the hint.

"Sure," she agreed, cutting into her eggs with her fork.

Steve set to work putting a serious hurt on some eggs and bacon. When he looked up at Darcy's plate a few minutes later, he noticed she'd barely touched her food.

"Darcy? What's up?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

She looked at him, eyes wide and face a little green. Then her hands shook so much she had to set down her knife and fork on the table top. She brought trembling fingers to her mouth as a loud sob escaped.

Steve set his own silverware down with a clatter and came around to her side of the booth. He put one arm around her shoulders; her whole body shook as she tried to stifle her weeping.

"It's okay, it'll be alright," he murmured, rubbing her back. "Just let it out."

"I-I thought I was going to throw up, b-but I started crying instead. I'm s-sorry," Darcy sobbed.

"Don't be sorry, Doll. You've been through a lot."

Darcy reached for the napkin holder with a shaky hand, but Steve beat her to it and yanked out several thin pieces. Darcy pressed them to her eyes and cheeks, folding and refolding the corners to dab at her eyes.

After a few minutes the shaking eased, then stopped. Darcy gulped down large breaths of air, her tears exhausted. Steve scooted away, not quite sure whether he'd crossed a boundary with a 21st century girl.

"I'm sorry," Darcy repeated, her face blotched with red. "God, a couple of kidnapping attempts and I fall apart."

"Normal reaction to trauma. Don't judge yourself. It's unavoidable, even if some people can manage to put it off for a while."

Steve returned to his side of the booth and picked up his fork.

"I don't see _you _crying into your toast, Steve," she countered, taking a sip of water.

"It's the super soldier serum. It doesn't inhibit my emotions, but it blunts the physiological reactions. Training helps with it, too. A lot."

Darcy shook her head. "You're so completely different from me. All of you Avengers, I mean. You know what to do and you're totally capable and have a million different skills, and I'm just... helpless."

Steve reached out with one hand, but stopped short of brushing Darcy's fingers. "Needing help doesn't mean you're helpless, Darcy."

"It kinda does, Steve."

"No, listen, things yesterday could have gone very differently if not for you. You're like... a good luck charm?"

Steve frowned. That wasn't quite right.

"I don't see how that relates to general functional competence in any way," Darcy shot back.

Steve leaned forward, speaking softly as the waitress passed by. "I'm saying it wrong. These guys, Nat identified a couple of them. They know me - well enough to get the drop on me twice. _You_ threw the spanner in the works. You hit a guy with a fire extinguisher!"

"That stunt nearly killed you, Steve. And I didn't know what the hell I was doing." Darcy fiddled with a napkin, refusing to meet Steve's eyes.

"Yes, you did. Don't sell yourself short, Doll. You flashed a professionally trained mercenary right in his night vision goggles."

Darcy finally looked up. Steve was relieved to see a wobbly smile emerge.

"That was half accident."

"Regardless, it worked. They were foolish not to expect trouble from you, and it backfired on them both times. Trust yourself, Darcy. I trust you."

He sat back and caught the waitress' eye for the check.

Darcy stared at him, her lips pursed. "Good pep talk, Coach. I'm probably gonna cry again before the day's over, though."

"Well, you never know how these kinds of things will affect you," he replied, shrugging.

She nodded decisively and packed up extra creamers in her bag as the check arrived. Steve didn't ask. They exited into bright morning sunshine. The parking lot was filling up with hungry locals as the pair walked across cracked pavement back to the car.

"Nat found a mole. Now that we've made contact, she'll be feeding him false information on our location. We're in the clear as long as we keep moving," Steve explained as they approached their ride.

"Can't she just like, torture him for information or something?" Darcy swiped a strand of hair out of her eyes and looked at Steve over the top of the car.

"Uh, technically, sure, she _could_, but it's kind of against the law, Darcy."

She laughed at his look of consternation. "I'm just joking, Steve. Remember, I make jokes when I'm nervous."

Steve didn't dignify with a response and yanked open the driver's side door. He had one leg in the car when something moved out of the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around to the left, just as a man in plain clothes approached the front of the car.

"Hey, do you have change for a twenty?" the man asked, holding up a bill.

"Sure, let me get my-" Steve reached into the back for his shield just as the man raced forward and shoved the open door against Steve.

Steve shoved it back, knocking the man flat and possibly damaging the door hinges. Darcy shrieked on his other side; he twisted to see her in the grip of two more plain-clothes men, faces he didn't recognize from S.H.I.E.L.D. The first man came at him again; Steve brought his left elbow up over the door into the man's face and sent him sprawling. A strong arm wrapped around his neck from behind.

Wedged between the driver's side door and the car body, Steve had barely any room to maneuver out of the headlock. He threw himself backward, intending to smash his attacker against another car, but a sharp sting in his neck made his arms go numb. His vision swam and the strength left his legs. Steve heard Darcy cry out as he descended into darkness.


	5. Engaging the Enemy

The last thing Darcy saw was Steve crumpling to the ground, which scared her more than the two goons holding onto her. A fabric hood was thrown over her head._ It's broad daylight_, she thought incredulously and took the deepest breath she could muster for a scream.

"You scream, he dies," hissed a muffled voice in her ear.

She considered screaming anyway but let the breath out, deflated.

Tight hands squeezed her arms until they hurt and she was forced down and into a vehicle, her head pressed low so as not to smack the frame. She heard a lot of grunting and heaving, and then felt Steve's massive frame sink into the seat beside her - fortunately not _on_ her - and heard several car doors slam. The engine turned over and the car was in motion. She felt around with her hands and pushed out with her feet until she kicked something. A shin. A rough hand grabbed her foot. She pulled back.

"Don't make this any harder than it already is," the same voice growled.

Darcy put her hands in her lap, hoping to avoid further contact, but then she was yanked forward by the strap of her cross-body purse as someone pulled it off of her. She heard the window descend and the sound of wind rushing into the car, then the jingle of her possessions as, she assumed, they were definistrated. _Shit_, she thought.

"Well, I hope you keep tampons stocked in the car," she carped indignantly.

This earned an exasperated sigh from someone and Darcy chuckled to herself.

She stopped laughing when her hands were pressed together and zip tied. She felt her seatbelt clicked in and wondered at the consideration. Or maybe she was just worth more alive, which was... hopeful? Maybe.

Darcy's head was hot and her breathing loud inside the rough hood. She felt dizzy, then a little sick. She thought she felt… yes. Steve was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. She scrunched over just a bit until their arms were touching. It helped.

She swallowed and tried to speak, not trusting herself to keep back tears of fear and nervousness. "Where are we going?"

"You don't need to know that, Miss Lewis," answered a clear, confident voice.

She turned her head in the direction of the speaker.

"Are you going to kill me? Kill him?"

"You, no. Him, I'm still deciding," came the playful answer.

Darcy didn't find it funny. She was sure this had to be the same group from the New Avengers Facility and the motel (what were the odds, really, of two mercenary groups coming after them), but hadn't Steve just told her Natasha was throwing them off the scent? None of this made sense and all of it made Darcy want to cry. Taking the chance that her captors wouldn't care, she leaned her hooded head on Steve's shoulder and let the tears fall.

Darcy woke to the rumble of tires on gravel. She had no idea how long she'd dozed against Steve's shoulder, but it had been one of those tense sleeps and all her neck muscles complained. She probably should have done something intelligent like tried to track their time on the road, but after all the stress and a sleepless night, she didn't have the energy to blame herself.

"Steve," she whispered, turning her head to dig her chin into his deltoid.

"He's still out," the voice from earlier informed her.

Darcy decided she hated the voice. Smug and kind of nasal, almost sneering. _Pretty confident for a guy that needed three tries to capture us_.

"Where are we going?" she asked again, more to be annoying than because she thought she'd get an answer.

"We're here," the voice replied.

The car braked and Darcy heard the gears shift into park. Her door opened and she was unbuckled and pulled from the vehicle, but not roughly. Her hands clasped tightly together, Darcy was escorted, unseeing, across gravel.

"Step up," came the smug voice.

She lifted her foot high and it came down on a sturdy porch.

"Up once more. Okay, you're there."

She let herself be guided forward, across groaning porch planks, through a creaking screen door, and finally seated in a thinly padded chair. Her arms and torso were bound to the chair, the zip tie left in place. Finally the scratchy, hot hood was removed. Darcy blinked in the bright atmosphere of a country cabin kitchen and drew in a deep breath of cooler air. She stared into a pair of mellow brown eyes topped with a clean-cut, recently trimmed head of brown hair. The smug man. He was tall and well built. He wore black fatigues, but they fit well and looked new. He smiled at her. This...was not what she'd expected.

She was facing away from a plain wooden kitchen table set in the corner of the room. She could see a living area through a wide opening in the kitchen wall. Several men in either plain clothes or all black sat around cleaning weapons or organizing other gear. Okay, so maybe it was kind of what she'd expected.

"Hey, somebody! A hand, please?"

Two men still on the front porch peered in through the screen door. Someone held the door open for them and she watched quietly as the pair strained to carry Steve's unconscious form through the front room and into the kitchen. They barely managed to right him and set him in another chair next to Darcy. A third man with a metal briefcase followed. He set the briefcase down on the kitchen table. Someone else hefting Steve's vibranium shield leaned it against the wall behind the kitchen table, then returned to the other part of the cabin.

"No comments, Miss Lewis?" said the smug man.

He leaned casually against a cheerful yellow-tiled kitchen counter. He was expertly peeling an apple all in one strip with a small paring knife. Somehow the innocuous action sent a shiver down Darcy's spine.

"Oh, plenty of comments. Most of them would probably get me killed, though. I'll keep them to myself."

The man barked a laugh.

"Wisdom is a good trait, Miss Lewis."

"I _am _curious how you found us. We thought we weren't being tracked."

The smug man quickly came forward with the knife in his hand. Darcy recoiled. He grinned savagely as he knelt in front of her, as if he knew exactly what effect he had on her. He stuck a finger in the top of her boot and fished around for a second, then withdrew. He triumphantly held up a tiny disc.

"My man planted it on you at the motel. It was jammed by your fancy, high-tech ride, true, but it worked perfectly well once you were out of the vehicle. A girl like you and a guy like him… we figured you'd have to eat sometime," he mocked.

Darcy felt woozy and her hands grew clammy. So this was all her fault. She was the one who'd suggested they stop at the diner. _I'm so sorry, Steve_, she thought, flicking her gaze over at him. Steve lifted his chin for a moment and she drew in a quiet breath, surprised.

Smug was surprised, too. He whipped his head back and away from America's champion, clearly nervous.

"I told you to keep him under!" he snapped at the third man.

"I am! I'm trying...his metabolism is chewing through the sedative at a faster and faster rate. I think it's going to become completely ineffective. I need to switch to something else."

The third man opened his briefcase and produced a syringe. Darcy winced when he stuck it in Steve's neck. Steve's head and shoulders slumped completely under the effect of the new drug.

"You're not going to kill him with the multiple sedatives, are you? I want him alive, Dr. Tennison - for now," the smug man said.

"No, no. This is fine. This complication with the super-soldier serum's effect on his physiology was unexpected, though. I packed enough drugs for a bigger man who needs a larger dose, not a man who overcomes the effects with repeated exposure. I need my other supplies."

Dr. Tennison pushed up his glasses and closed the briefcase. The smug man glanced at Darcy, then tugged the doctor across the room.

Darcy couldn't hear what they were saying, but Dr. Tennison nodded nervously and left the cabin at a run. She heard a car start up outside and drive away. She pursed her lips in thought.

"Now, you're probably wondering why all the trouble to bring you here," the smug man said, turning back to Darcy.

"Well, it is on the list of questions," Darcy replied.

Had she seen one of Steve's fingers flex behind his chair? Probably not. She was probably grasping at straws.

There wasn't any way out of this. The abduction scenario was what Steve had been working against the whole time, and he'd failed. And she hadn't been any help. Now she was alone, unsure of whether her answers would save her or kill her. What would Black Widow do right now? Probably say something quippy and contort her way out of the ropes. Darcy wriggled a bit, but her bonds had no give. She knew that idea was hopeless.

"I need you to talk to someone for me," Smug explained.

He took a large bite of the apple, smacking a bit as he continued. "We've got a bit of an… access problem."

"Uh, I hope you're not talking about access to the New Avengers Facility. You definitely picked the wrong girl. I'm basically an office lackey around there; no one tells me anything. I don't have passwords and things like that."

Darcy's stomach managed a weak rumble as she watched Smug devour the apple. They must have been driving for longer than she thought if she was already hungry again. Her mind flittered in a weird, tense space and her genial captor didn't help. She should be terrified of him. She was literally bound to a chair. But his casual conversation and soft, tourmaline eyes were, against her better judgement, working to calm her frayed nerves. She hoped he would believe her. She was being almost completely honest, after all.

He smiled.

"We know that. No, this is nothing to do with the Avengers. Here, let me grab the camera."

Smug dropped his apple core in a trashcan and left the kitchen. He came back with a laptop, which he placed on the kitchen table next to the silver briefcase. Puzzled, Darcy twisted her head to try and see what he was doing. He grabbed the back of her chair and hauled it around until she faced the laptop screen. She winced at the screech of metal feet on tile floor.

He pressed a button, waking the screen. A few taps and an image of another room, vaguely familiar, was visible. Rich mahogany bookshelves overloaded with heavy tomes were planted behind an antique desk. Darcy blinked, shocked. Was that…?

A man was shoved into the camera's view. Darcy could see the business end of a gun prodding him forward. He straightened and she gasped.

"Brendan! What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Darcy?" came the tremulous reply.

"Let me cut in," Smug said. "Dr. Mallory, this is Darcy Lewis. I believe you know her?"

"Yes," Brendan replied.

Darcy sat open-mouthed. She gave a shake of her head, coming back to herself, and struggled against the rope around her ribs.

"Brendan, don't tell them anything, don't give them anything! These guys are serious!"

Smug turned a gimlet eye on her. Had she thought his gaze calming? Her protest quelled under his iron glare.

"Shut your mouth if you want him to live," Smug told her softly.

Darcy shut her mouth.

"Dr. Mallory, as you can see, Miss Lewis is correct. We _are_ a very serious operation. I asked you for access and information regarding the International Political Science Annual Conference at Culver University. I have detained Miss Lewis here to ensure your compliance."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Brendan challenged.

Darcy gave a quivering smile. Her old poli-sci professor really was a good guy. This wasn't the time for bravado, however. Whomever held the gun on her prof was keeping well out of the camera's view, but she knew it was there, pointed right at him. If his back-talk got him injured, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

"Brendan, I've known you since I was nineteen," she started. "And the first day of my first class with you, you caught me sneaking a donut out of my backpack. I had to bribe you by bringing a second one with me for every class for the rest of the semester."

Darcy looked up, directly into the camera. Brendan wore a small, sad frown and his face had become very pale.

"I'll get you what you want. Please, don't hurt her," he begged.

Smug leaned down and put his face right next to Darcy's. "That's all I needed to hear. My associate will give you instructions. Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Mallory."

He reached forward and closed the laptop, cutting off Brendan's protests.

Tears welled up behind Darcy's eyes. She didn't bother trying to stop them as they overflowed and dripped down her cheeks. She hung her head, unable to slouch any lower in the chair. Smug hauled her back around so that she faced the rest of the kitchen. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head back, an expression of genuine remorse floating across his features.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. I can tell you're not cut out for this kind of thing. That's good, actually. Means you're normal."

"Fuck you," Darcy spat.

She winced as Smug raised his hand, but he only curled his fingers, leaving the forefinger pointed straight up. He pressed his lips tight as he held the hand in front of her face.

"I'll give you one. But don't talk to me like that again."

He grabbed the laptop and stalked away, leaving Darcy alone with an unconscious Captain America. She let her head fall forward again, but she didn't really feel like crying anymore.

"So, who's Brendan?" Steve muttered thickly, his head still lowered.

Darcy almost shrieked. Instead, she took deep breaths, willing her pulse to slow.

"How long have you been awake?" she whispered.

"Been mostly conscious since we arrived. Couldn't afford to be separated from you."

Steve talked like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Darcy's heart warmed at his words.

"You've been faking?"

"Kinda. The room's spinning. Don't know how much good I'd be in a fight."

"That one guy left to get better drugs."

"I know. I need… Darcy, you have to get out of here. This is too dangerous. I can't let them hurt you. Ask to go to the bathroom. If it has a window, climb out and start running. Don't look back."

"Steve," Darcy hissed, "No way-"

"You might get lost, but you have to try. I'll find you. Or if I don't, the Avengers will. I gotta...I gotta figure out how to neutralize things here, and I need you safe before I can do that. I can't risk getting you hurt, Doll."

He sounded half asleep, but Darcy knew he meant what he said. She didn't want to leave Steve. It was the coward's way out. To run and save her own skin while he was in a house with a bunch of trained killers who hated his guts?

But he was right. She was useless in a fight. Her strengths were snarky quips and coffee consumption. Defeated, Darcy sighed.

"I'll do it."

She looked up and around. Smug was in the living room of the cabin, his back turned. Steve had remained utterly still during their exchange; she was positive no one had heard their terse conversation. Darcy swallowed.

"Hey, uh, you? Mister?"

Smug turned around, a gun in his hands. Darcy eyed it nervously.

"Um, I'm sorry. I have to pee. Is there a bathroom?"

Smug didn't smile, but he did set the gun down. He walked over, unsheathing a knife at his belt. It looked far more serious than the kitchen knife he'd held before. Darcy tried not to shy away again. She was only partially successful as he grabbed her hands and sliced through the zip tie binding them together. He undid her ropes and motioned for her to stand with a flourish.

"Bathroom's this way, Miss Lewis."

As soon as the bathroom door shut, she locked it with the little button at the bottom of the ancient doorknob. She used the facilities and turned on the tap, letting the noise obscure her perusal of the tiny space. She looked at the window for a long moment, then turned away with a shake of her head. No way.

Instead, she tugged quietly at the linen cabinet, keeping the noise to a minimum as she unstuck the door. An initial sweep turned up a bobby pin and a Q-tip. She stuck the bobby pin in her hair. Reaching up on tip-toe, Darcy felt around the top shelf for something, anything. She stilled as her hand brushed a piece of metal. Closing her fingers around its cool surface, she brought it down. _Jackpot. _A box cutter. Jackpot? What did that even mean?

With a grimace, she stuffed the box cutter down the back of her skirt, hoping her t-shirt was loose enough to hide the bulge. Anything was better than nothing, even though she knew she couldn't manage an escape with the aid of office supplies.

"Darcy?" Smug pounded on the door. "Yo, Gal Friday! Open up!"

Darcy whirled, heart racing, as the ineffectual lock popped free and the door burst open.

"What are you doing?" Smug asked, suspicious.

"I-I'm sorry. I had another panic attack," Darcy said.

Her hands shook with nerves she didn't need to fake. Her breath came fast and she gripped the edge of the bathroom counter for support.

Smug glanced cannily at the untouched window. He came forward, his expression softening minutely. Darcy closed her eyes as he reached past her and turned off the tap.

"We have a bedroom. You can lie down there. The windows are all sealed and there's a perimeter guard, so don't get any ideas."

He took her elbow and guided her down a short hall with wood paneling. He deposited her in a small room, well lit, that contained an old wooden dresser, a lamp, a nightstand table, and a twin bed frame with wooden posts and a handmade quilt.

Darcy sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

"Don't try anything," Smug reiterated, then left, locking the door behind him.

Darcy sighed and sank back into the old mattress. She felt for the box cutter at her back. _I bet Black Widow would know what to do,_ she thought miserably. Any energy she'd conserved toward plans of escape had been lost in the terror that had overcome her in the bathroom. Smug was right, she just wasn't cut out for any of this. She closed her eyes.

Darcy woke, incredulous that she'd actually managed to fall asleep _again_. And it was dark! She looked around the room, but there was no clock. She got up and went to one of the windows. _Oh. _Heavy, gray clouds covered what she could see of the sky between tall trees. A storm was rolling in. Darcy could see someone in the distance, walking through the woods with a gun. As she watched, the skies opened up. Rain pounded down on the roof and over the whole area, obscuring her view of the perimeter guard. She yanked the curtains closed, not wanting him to see her.

She turned, then stopped. Someone had left a tray of food on the dresser while she slept. It was just a sandwich, and apple, and a cup of water, but it was better than nothing.

Darcy went to grab the tray, but placed her hands on the dresser instead. Curious, she reached down and pulled out the first drawer. Empty, of course. She pulled out the drawer to its left. Also empty. She went to the next row. There was a rattle when she pulled out the fourth drawer. Darcy felt around inside and found another bobby pin.

_Well, that's...something_, she thought as she held it up and looked at it. She tucked it into her hair with the other one.

Darcy stiffened when she heard a voice on the other side of the door. She shut the drawer quickly and grabbed the glass of water. Taking a sip, she realized the voice wasn't actually coming to her room, it was just loud enough to be heard throughout the cabin. She downed the rest of the water and knelt next to the door.

It had an old-fashioned keyhole underneath the knob, the kind a person could look through. Unfortunately, when she pressed her face to it, all Darcy could see was outdated wood paneling. Instead, she put the glass up to the keyhole like a fifth-grade sleuth, her ear against it.

"It was a huge waste of time and resources," Smug was saying.

A muffled thwack followed by a soft grunt punctuated his words. _He's setting something down on the table,_ Darcy thought. Maybe the drug guy had returned. She wished she knew what time it was.

"Why didn't you just use the LMD to convince Dr. Mallory?" Steve's familiar voice rumbled.

The drug guy _wasn't_ back, Darcy realized. And Steve could no longer reasonably keep up the ruse of unconsciousness. It must be later in the day.

Another thump and another grunt. What were they doing?

"Two separate jobs, dipshit. The LMD was provided by our client to gather intel in the New Avengers Facility. Miss Lewis was our best weak link - perfectly trusted and positioned within the organization to gather sensitive intel, but with negligible self-defense capability. A quick kidnapping, and then the LMD's tale of escape, and we were in. But we needed the real Miss Lewis for final programming. It wasn't a decent fake yet."

"Meanwhile, the real Darcy is used as a hostage, to ensure access for your other operation-"

Steve's voice tightened oddly, in time with another quiet thump.

"Basically, yes," Smug replied.

Darcy's face fell. The best weak link? Yeah, that pretty much summed her up. She removed the glass and sat down on the floor. As much as Steve wanted to convince her otherwise, Darcy knew it was all true. Smug's plan was perfectly sound. Steve was the reason - the only reason - she had stayed out of their grasp for any length of time. If she hadn't chanced upon him in the third floor hallway, these assholes would have grabbed her and no one would have known. There was the slight possibility that Jane might have noticed Darcy was "off" when she got back from her conference, but Darcy had no doubt the rest of the Facility's employees would have accepted the LMD without batting an eye.

"He _what?!_"

Startled at the explosion of sound, Darcy popped the glass back up. She could make out a quiet murmur, but couldn't hear what was said.

Smug sighed gustily.

"Johnson, keep an eye on things here. Especially _him_. Griggs and I will go get Dr. Tennison. Idiot. It's not raining _that_ hard."

Their booted feet echoed on the thin cabin floorboards as they exited into the storm.

Sighing, Darcy rose from the floor and carried the tray of food to the bed. She sat in the growing darkness, eating food without tasting it, lost in thought.


	6. Roll With the Punches

Steve tilted his head forward and did his best not to sniff back any of the blood issuing from his nose. His instinct was to lean back, but Natasha had assured him this was the new, proper way to stop a bloody nose. Granted, he was supposed to have a hand free to staunch the flow. He flexed involuntarily against his ropes.

Being his antagonist's punching bag was nothing new for Steve. As long as it kept the man's attentions off of Darcy, it worked out fine for him. Now that the leader was gone, the atmosphere of the cabin had shifted. Someone had turned on Monday night football, and the remaining men were gathered in the living room to watch. They alternately cheered and cursed as the game progressed. Steve wouldn't have minded watching a little, but their thick bodies blocked his view. He sighed.

How could he have let things deteriorate so badly? Despite the physical pain he was in and the concern over the various plots they were a part of, all he could focus on was the fright in Darcy's eyes at the diner. He flexed again and dropped his head, getting a glimpse of the bloody mess down the front of his ropes. He'd set out to protect her and he'd failed. More than that, though. He'd _promised _he would keep her safe. Something inside him felt...ashamed at not keeping his promise.

It went deeper than that, he admitted to himself. _Get real, Steve,_ he chided. _You like her._

He tried to grin to himself, but it turned into a grimace. Other than the obvious, he didn't have much to bring to the table in that regard. Darcy wasn't shy about complimenting his physical appearance, but they didn't have anything in common. The same was true of everyone he knew. Work was his commonality with everyone he associated with. He didn't play video games, hardly had time for sports, wasn't a movie buff. Sam and Natasha didn't seem to mind, but they were the exceptions. People didn't hang out with Captain America, and Captain America didn't hang out with people. They found him when there was work to be done.

Steve shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus on the problem at hand, not wallow in self-pity. He considered the chair he'd been placed in. It was reinforced steel. No matter how he strained, the chair had no give and he couldn't get any leverage. A sense of irony descended over Steve. He'd been to some of the most secure facilities in the world, seen the restraints developed and perfected for dangerous superpowered criminals. Attempts had been made on him before, with magnetic handcuffs and all kinds of new technologies. These guys had ropes and a good chair, and he was stuck.

A particularly loud cheer from the living room was overlaid with thunder from outside. The kitchen's small window showed black outside. The storm had only grown worse in the hours since he and Darcy were separated. He flicked his eyes back to the living room. He'd kept careful count of the assholes in there and reassured himself that none of them had left to go visit the gorgeous young woman locked in a back room of the cabin. Their desires appeared to be strictly related to watching the game.

A second round of cheers was interrupted as the entire cabin went pitch black, followed by shouts of dismay. Thunder followed.

"What the-"

"Power's out!"

"Shit! Did you see whether Leon made the tackle?"

Several flashlights popped on. A couple of beams ran over the kitchen, where Steve sat, motionless.

"Well, he's not going anywhere at least. You okay, Captain Rogers?" asked one voice in the darkness.

"Peachy," Steve replied, lifting an eyebrow. The flashlights turned away from his face and he blinked, readjusting.

"Should I fire up the generator?" asked one deep voice.

"Yes!" several voices chorused in response.

Steve smiled at the urgency. Football was a serious matter, as long as the boss wasn't around. Deep Voice stamped out into the storm and the rest settled back down into quiet conversation.

Steve closed his eyes, not that it made much difference, and thought. Could he use the dark to his advantage? They'd wisely tied down his legs at the ankles. He potentially could stand in the chair, but most movement would make a lot of noise. The drugs were out of his system now, but he hadn't eaten in a while. Would that affect him?

Small, cold fingers threaded into one of his palms and he felt warm breath on his ear.

"It's just me," Darcy whispered.

"Darcy, what the hell are you doing?" Steve whispered back, ignoring the shiver that went down his spine.

She brought her lips to his ear once more before melting into the darkness. "Busting you out, Tough Guy."

He felt a tugging, sawing vibration at his ropes. What could she have possibly found? He smiled to himself. All that talk about underestimating herself, and he'd done the very same thing. He felt the ropes around his arms slacken, then drop away.

Darcy's cool hand rested on his shoulder. He brought his face up blindly.

"Ankles. Hurry."

Steve shook out his arm fatigue, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. He didn't hear any noise from Darcy, but soon felt the same tugging at each ankle, and the same release. The football talk went on in the other room, the men oblivious. Steve felt something pressed into his hand. Darcy's voice was back at his ear.

"Box cutter. Best I could do."

"It's fantastic, Doll."

Before he could stop himself and before she could draw away, Steve gripped her hand in his. She responded with a gentle squeeze of his fingers. He stood, testing his balance in the dark.

"Stay behind me. Maybe we can sneak out before-"

A sound like a large lawn mower fired up from outside the cabin and the lights popped back on. The men in the living room cheered as the screen of the ancient TV lit up. The cheers turned to dismay as several turned and saw Steve reaching for his shield against the back wall of the kitchen.

"He's loose!"

"Shoot him! Don't let them get out!"

Taking a calculated risk, Steve snatched Darcy around the waist, pressing her close. Shield in front of them, he threw himself backward against the kitchen wall. The flimsy cabin's structure gave way at once. They tumbled backward through crumbling drywall and old, splintering wood. Bullets pinged off of Steve's shield as he landed flat on his back in the mud, Darcy on top of him. Instinctively, she rolled away from the hole in the wall and the men with guns.

"Truck! Out front!" Steve directed as he jumped to his feet and followed her through the pounding rain.

It was pitch black as they rounded the back of the cabin and made for the gravel drive out front. Steve was tempted to try for the woods that surrounded them, but he had no idea of their location. Trying to hide Darcy safely in the woods in a storm in the middle of nowhere was a bad idea, his earlier suggestion notwithstanding. Instead, they came to the first SUV they saw. Aware that they had only moments, Steve yanked the door open, leaned in, and ripped away the plastic casing around the steering column. He slashed several wires with the box cutter and hotwired the ignition, wincing at the sparks. He threw the cutter on the passenger seat and leaned back out.

"Get in. You're driving."

Darcy didn't argue. She stepped up into the compartment and strapped on her safety belt.

"Okay, Steve, get in-"

She was interrupted by a stream of bullets that pattered and whined around them. Steve slammed the door shut.

"Drive! I'll buy you some time!" he shouted through the closed window.

Darcy shook her head, frowning, but he heard her shift into drive and jam down on the gas pedal. The SUV roared forward, headed for a tall, chain link gate with a padlock that cut across the gravel drive. It was dimly lit by a utility bulb, barely visible in the gloom.

Steve turned and sprang straight up, drawing the fire of several men on the porch. He came down on the roof of the cabin, scrambling over its slippery surface. A crash sounded; Darcy had driven right at the gate without slowing and burst through. Good girl. He kept his eyes on Darcy's tail lights as she drove toward the road that must lay beyond the compound. They shifted left, then he lost sight of them among the trees.

"Come down, Rogers! There's nowhere else to go!" shouted Deep Voice.

He wasn't wrong. Steve gripped the stonework chimney that rose out of the roof. Light spilled out from the front porch on one side and the hole he'd busted through the wall on the other. Long shadows revealed the men and their weapons arranged in a circle around the cabin. He was surrounded on all sides.

Steve took a deep breath and leapt out and over, angling his shield beneath him. Staccato muzzle fire followed him into the dense forest, the bullets pinging uselessly off of vibranium. He reached out blindly with one arm in the darkness, felt the smack of something hard, sturdy, and splintery against his bicep, and managed to hook his elbow around a branch. He used his momentum to swing out further, hoping to reach a carpet of pine needles rather than slam into a tree trunk.

The instant his feet felt ground, he rolled forward to break his fall. He rose and ran as fast as he could in the direction of Darcy's tail lights. He angled further to the left, hoping the road circled around the section of trees he ran through. Sure enough, he shortly reached a chain link fence that marked the edge of the compound, smacking against it heavily. He could see the road outside. He gathered his feet under himself and jumped over, clearing the top with inches to spare.

He came down into a wet grassy ditch on the other side just as the SUV roared up, but Darcy couldn't see him in the darkness. Steve made a last, desperate leap, feet slipping on the grass beneath him. He slammed against the driver's side of the SUV and gripped the side mirror, legs dragging against the asphalt. Darcy screamed inside the vehicle.

"Darcy, it's me!" Steve yelled.

She got a good look at him, then braked suddenly. Steve held on as his momentum reversed and threatened to toss him forward onto the road. He yanked open the door behind her and clambered inside, pushing the shield in first. As soon as it slammed shut, Darcy hit the gas.

"Steve, you fucking insane...weirdo...jerk-face...martyr complex - oh, shit, your face…" Darcy's stream of words and irritation attenuated as he climbed into the front seat.

She reached out a hand, tenderly touching one of his bruised eyes. Her voice trembled with new tears.

"That smug asshole was hitting you, wasn't he?"

Steve reached for her hand and pulled it away before she could smear the blood on his cheeks and chin. "Don't worry about it, Doll. It'll be fine in a few hours. Just focus on the road. They might look for me for a few more minutes, but you're the person they really want. We have to keep going."

Darcy frowned, staring forward through the pounding rain barely kept at bay by busy windshield wipers.

"I'm so sorry, Steve," she whispered.

Steve cocked his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Darcy."

"Yes I do. I left you there, and I ran. I'm such a coward."

"I told you to. You had to, to stay alive."

"That doesn't mean anything. You just… you get left behind, Steve. A lot. It's not fair. The military left you in the ice. Hydra pushed you out of SHIELD, made you a fugitive. All that you've given to others… you take all this shit - from everyone - and they expect you to just deal."

"Seriously, Darcy, it's okay."

"It's not okay, Steve! You aren't some caped crusader, you're a person. You don't deserve to be left behind. To be used and cast off. To take the beatings for someone else. I'm sorry, _really _sorry, and I'm not going to do it again."

Darcy sniffled and stared straight ahead, placing both hands securely on the wheel.

Steve sat, mouth slightly agape. Darcy's words rocked him, right down to his toes.

In the army he'd been a symbol, a rallying voice for his compatriots, and eventually a martyr. In this age, he was tool, a weapon, and he was fine with it as long as he was pointed in the right direction. His life wasn't worth much otherwise. And he _was _disposable. That was the nature of the beast, wasn't it? You use a tool until it breaks. If it doesn't break, you use it some more.

Something confusing and ill-defined rose up within Steve. He'd given over dreams of being an artist, of having his own life. He'd given them over for the greater good. He'd never looked back. After all, his likely option had been to die an early death, weak and alone, no parents, no wife, no kids, no friends. He'd traded that in for a better way. He was committed to making good on the trade.

But Darcy didn't understand all that. She looked at him and saw the bruises. She didn't understand that the damage goes away. Or maybe… maybe _he _didn't understand. Maybe the damage was there, under the surface, hidden from casual eyes. Steve frowned. He hadn't been truly _seen _by anyone so clearly since… Peggy.

"Darcy, I…" at a loss as to what to say, Steve ran his hand through his dirty hair and leaned back.

"Ah, shit," Darcy muttered.

Steve followed her gaze through the windshield. A tree felled by the storm lay across the road. Sheets of rain hammered the ground in front of the headlights.

"What do we do?" asked Darcy as she braked carefully on wet asphalt.

"I got it," Steve assured her.

"Oh, right. Forgot I was road-tripping with Cap for a second there."

Feeling their awkwardness forgotten, Steve shot her a grin as he got out - quickly though, as their pursuers had to be close behind. He jogged to the heavy tree, visible in the bright headlights. But the moment he touched it, a cacophony of sound erupted.

Darcy leaned on the horn and flashed the lights, pointing upward. Simultaneously, the unmistakable sound of a helicopter descended upon them. Steve squinted up into its bright beam. Angled raindrops sprayed down on him as its blades spun, whipping up local precipitation into a flurry of water. He hailed it with a wave.

Darcy ran from the vehicle to join him, putting up one hand to shade her eyes from the beam. She'd thoughtfully grabbed his shield, Steve realized, perturbed by how much he enjoyed the sight of her running toward him holding it. Her hair was thoroughly wet with rain and droplets clung to the lenses of her glasses. Her full lips were just as striking without the cherry-red lipstick she usually wore. He dragged his eyes away as she came to his side.

"Please tell me these are friends!" she shouted over the noise of the helicopter's blades.

"Yep. This is definitely our ride."

"It's about time!" Darcy laughed.

She handed Steve the shield and he took it almost reluctantly. They were both soaked to the bone and he knew he looked a mess, but Darcy's bright smile in the darkness buoyed his heart. He remembered the feel of her fingers on his in the cabin; he wanted that again. Shyly, he reached out and touched her hand. His heartbeat hammered when she gripped his fingers tightly in response.

The helicopter slowed, then stopped its descent. A rope ladder rolled down from the open side as a loudspeaker boomed.

"Did you miss us, guys?" Black Widow's amplified voice came down at them. "Hurry up, it's chilly out here."

Steve let go of Darcy's hand and grabbed a rung to steady the ladder.

"Ladies first," he offered, feeling the attempt to be charming blunted by his black-and-blue mug.

Darcy hurried up the ladder. Natasha got her secured, then turned to Steve as he settled himself and strapped in.

"We caught up with Doctor Tennison on his way back in. He was only too happy to give up the location of this compound in exchange for a deal. Apparently there was some blackmail involved; we'll let the lawyers sort it all out."

Steve nodded. "I guessed as much. And the ringleader of this circus?"

Nat pulled a face. "We got his driver. He managed to evade. Do you know who he is?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't. I can give a description. Several of the guys back in the cabin are ex-SHIELD, of course, but I haven't met their boss before."

A quiet gasp from Darcy interrupted them.

"He got away?" she asked, eyes fearful. "What about Brendan?"


	7. Hit or Miss

Strapped in and supplied with an extra headset, Darcy glanced back and forth at Steve and the Black Widow. She was his friend, right? But not a word about his obvious injuries - the bloody cut over one brow that was just starting to congeal, the two black eyes, the swollen lip. Darcy looked down, embarrassed. Maybe it only bothered her because she'd gotten him into the situation. At least the rain had washed the blood off.

She clasped the hand that Steve had held, thinking. He was kinder than she'd thought possible, reassuring her as they waited for the helicopter to descend. Kind, even though he didn't owe her a thing. All she'd done was bring him trouble since this whole mess started. Darcy tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear that Smug had escaped. She gasped.

"He got away? What about Brendan?"

"Who's Brendan?" Black Widow asked, her penetrating gaze leaving Darcy unsettled.

"He's at the center of Plan B," Steve explained. "Darcy was insurance, in case Dr. Brendan Mallory refused to cooperate in the other scheme they're running. We need to get a team to Culver University immediately - he's the key to a larger plot against attendees at an international conference they're hosting."

"Wait…" Darcy counted back on her fingers. "What day is it now? The conference starts soon - that's why they were so desperate to use Brendan for access. He's head of the department, so he approves final logistics and schedules for the presenters."

"It's Monday," Black Widow said.

Darcy scrubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Crap. The conference starts Tuesday morning at nine a.m. sharp. The keynote speaker is the most prestigious guest - a Nobel Peace Prize recipient. Steve…"

Steve's beat up face made his expression look hard, but his voice was level. "We don't have time to set up a team. We need to get there asap. Natasha, contact what Avengers you can and set up a rendezvous. Darcy, there isn't time to get you all the way back to the Facility, but there's a safe house and we can drop you -"

"Hell, no."

"Darcy, this isn't up for debate," Steve warned.

"The hell it isn't," Darcy snapped. "You need me, Steve. You have no time to set up a...a raid or whatever you call it. I know Culver like the back of my hand. Especially the Poli-Sci department. I also know where Brendan lives - at this time of night, do you really think they're stashing him somewhere on campus? Their whole crappy-ass plan depends on Brendan acting normal. He'd be home, either typing away on a book or sleeping. He's like clockwork."

Darcy crossed her arms under her breasts and raised both eyebrows, giving the two Avengers in front of her time to consider.

"I can get blueprints…" Black Widow muttered.

"How long is _that _going to take?" Darcy shot back.

Steve gave a deep sigh. It made Darcy feel like a millstone, that sigh, but she didn't back down.

"Okay, Darcy, but you are out _away _from the campus. You are on a headset, and you are giving us intel, and that's _it_."

"Fine," she agreed.

Black Widow muttered some more, but she pressed a button on her headset and spoke into the mouthpiece. The helicopter banked left.

"We're making a short stop at the safe house; we have a stash of gear for you and a change of clothes for her." Black Widow held up a hand to cut off Darcy's protests. "It's on our way anyway and it'll only take a few minutes."

Darcy gave an exasperated sigh. "I guess."

"Oh, hey. You dropped this," Black Widow continued, her apparent irritation evaporating as quickly as it had come.

She produced a familiar purse from under her seat.

"Fuck, yeah! Thanks, uh..."

"Just call me Nat, or Natasha."

"Thanks, Nat."

Darcy took it gratefully and popped open the clasp. Her trusty phone was safe inside.

"Aw, Baby, I missed you too," she murmured to the phone as she unlocked the screen. She had three voicemails and a string of texts, most of them from Jane. She answered with reassurance that she'd been recovered by the Avengers in one piece. She decided to wait until they were out of the helicopter to try listening to the voicemails.

When she glanced up from her phone, Steve caught her eye and tapped his headset. He pulled his off and Darcy followed suit. He leaned in, but even so, Darcy could hardly hear him over the noise of the helicopter.

"How are you doing?" he asked, noting her expression.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just catching up on texts from this morning." She paused. "Was it really only this morning?"

Steve chuckled. "Hard to believe."

He leaned closer, the buffeting white noise of the helicopter's blades enveloping them like a shroud.

"What's the status of your relationship with Dr. Mallory? You two are close?"

Darcy nodded. "Not as close as we used to be, but yeah. He's one of the reasons I settled on political science for my undergrad. He taught my first class on the subject, and we hit it off. Both personally and academically, you could say. He was my thesis advisor, really encouraged me to pursue grad school, but I got caught up interning with Jane and my life just...took a different turn, I guess. I'd consider him a mentor in the same way as Jane. He's a really good man. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in anything like this."

"I'm sure he doesn't. We'll get him clear, Darcy. It's what the Avengers do."

"Yeah, I know. I'm allowed to worry though, right?"

Darcy looked up into Steve's piercing blue eyes. He wasn't smiling as he considered her, his gaze flickering over her face. She returned his regard, noting that the bruises around his eyes had already receded. Did the super-soldier serum really help him heal that fast?

"How about you?" she asked, changing the subject. "Are you okay?"

"Eh, hungry. But fine. Thanks to you, I should add."

"Nah, you did all the heavy lifting. And I'm starting to suspect, despite hardware to the contrary, these douche bags don't really know what they're doing. Honestly, that makes me worry more. I like predictable, Steve. Not guys who forget to clear the top shelf of the bathroom."

"The box cutter?"

"Yep."

"How did you get out of the back room?"

"Jimmied it with bobby pins. It was a super-old lock, to be fair. I didn't really know what I was doing. I just got bored and antsy. I could hear all the football yelling so I figured it was my best chance."

Steve was grinning at her now. Embarrassed, Darcy looked away. The cut on his lip had already healed, leaving just a pair of slightly swollen and downright kissable-looking lips. _Don't think about the lips, Darcy_, she told herself. But she couldn't deny the little thrill that went through her. Too bad she wasn't made of the right stuff to impress a super-hero. Steve was probably ready to get back to exciting adventures after babysitting her for two days. She felt his now-familiar hand brush her shoulder.

"Sharp, brave, and resourceful. I need to ask Tony why we're keeping you hidden away in a lab."

"Well, I _do _have a tendency to drop f-bombs under stress. I'd probably be bad for the image."

"I'm sure that's not true," Steve murmured.

He'd come close enough now that his breath tickled her ear. Darcy's brain did the unthinkable - it froze up. Fresh out of clever things to say, Darcy just shrugged and leaned back a little. Steve smiled once more and put his headset back on, so she did the same.

Darcy took a long look at Steve when he turned his head to stare out the window. He was messy and muddy, his t-shirt melting into various shades of brown from blood, dust, drywall, and mud. His grey sweatpants were in a shocking state; his sneakers unsalvageable. His hair was crusted with dust and dirt, sticking up on one side where he'd run fingers through it.

As ridiculous as it sounded, she liked what she saw - a lot. The cleaned-up posterboy was alright, but the real Steve worked damn hard, and right now he looked like it. Darcy's heart dropped into her stomach as she remembered why he was so beat up - she was the sole reason. Guilt and embarrassment rushed in for the hundredth time. She turned away to her own window; she couldn't watch him anymore.

Darcy came out of her reverie when Nat tapped her on the shoulder, offering water and a snack. Darcy smiled gratitude at the other woman.

"We'll be there in about twenty minutes," Nat's voice informed her through the headset.

Darcy nodded. Nat was nice, she decided. Darcy still felt intimidated by the Russian spy-assassin-hero-what-have-you vibe, but she felt her initial impression softening. She supposed if she'd seen Steve come through as many horrible scenarios as Black Widow probably had, she might not pay attention to two black eyes on the guy either. Still…

The helicopter landed at a private yard and a black van whisked them away to the safe house. It was as unassuming and mundane as Darcy had expected, right down to the white painted trim and old-fashioned house numbers affixed to the front door. Her curiosity sparked for a moment and she almost asked how they maintained places like this, and whether someone lived there. Then exhaustion smothered the impulse as she realized she was too tired to listen to the answer.

"There's a bathroom down the hall. We have time for you to take a shower, if you're quick," Nat told her, pointing helpfully toward the back of the house. "There's a couple changes of clothes in there, too."

"Thank God," Darcy muttered.

She hadn't been pleased about the delay, but now that they were at the house, she couldn't deny that a shower sounded like heaven.

"Why don't you go first, Darcy? I'll eat and work logistics with Nat, get in touch with the team," Steve offered.

Darcy didn't argue. The bathroom had a generously-sized shower and plenty of hot water. Darcy stripped off her filthy clothes, leaving them on the floor since no hamper was evident. She almost cried when the hot water touched her skin. Then she did cry (a little) when mud spattered the shower tiles as she washed and rinsed her hair. She almost went lizard-brain, standing motionless with the water running over her face and chest, but shook herself and remembered Steve was waiting for his turn. She splashed water over the walls to rinse down her grime, then twisted the water back off when she was satisfied the space was clean.

Darcy found a giant, fluffy towel in the linen cabinet next to the sink. _Being clean is kinda messing me up_, she thought as she pinched back a few more tears. She knew she should let it out, but this didn't feel like a good time. She really didn't want to cry in front of the Black Widow, or _again _in front of Steve. Instead, she sniffed back her tears, dried everything, and yanked a t-shirt, a pair of too-big jeans, and a belt out of the linen cabinet. She grimaced as she put back on her dirty underwear and bra, but the fresh clothes were nice. Even if she felt pretty silly wearing baggy jeans with her ankle boots.

She rejoined their small group in the kitchen, having combed out her wet hair. Steve and Nat sat on bar stools at a generous kitchen island. Steve was munching on a sandwich and Darcy could see that an untouched plate had been set out for her. A cell phone and several papers were scattered over the surface, but they had apparently concluded whatever calls they needed to make. She leaned her elbows self-consciously on the counter as they turned to her.

"Feel better?" Steve asked around a mouthful of bread and lettuce.

"Yeah. A lot. I hope you washed your hands."

Steve swallowed, grinned, and held up clean hands for her to see.

"That was his fifth sandwich," Nat informed Darcy, rolling her eyes.

"Eh, you deserve it," Darcy decided as she picked up her own sandwich.

Steve licked his lips and took a sip of water, his gaze running over Darcy.

"You joining my fan club now?" he teased.

"What? Oh!" Darcy looked down at herself.

Her blue t-shirt was printed with a huge image of Captain America's shield. It actually looked pretty great on her, if she said so herself. She smirked as she cocked her head to one side.

"Don't get too excited, Rogers. It's the only shirt they have here."

"There goes my hope of wearing the Hulk under my kevlar."

Nat cleared her throat and tapped the spot on her wrist where a watch would sit. "We have places to go, Steve. Get in the shower or skip it."

"Okay, okay," he relented, pushing away from the island.

Darcy took his stool once he vacated it. Nat looked completely out of place in her Avengers uniform, tight black leather at odds with the cheerful suburban flavor of the kitchen. She smiled at Darcy nonetheless, and Darcy smiled back. Unsure what to say, she took another bite of her sandwich.

"Is it okay if I make a few more phone calls?" Nat asked, standing abruptly.

"Yeah. Of course," Darcy replied around a full mouth of food.

Just like that, Darcy was alone in the kitchen. There were two other agents wandering around somewhere, but neither of them came in as she ate by herself. Darcy pulled out her phone and dialed up her voicemail messages. One was from her mother, but two were Brendan, sent during the hours she'd been in Smug's car this morning, she guessed. The controlled panic in Brendan's voice made her frown. She checked the time and sighed; it was just after midnight. _Hang on, Brendan. We're coming._

Steve returned as Darcy was finishing a few rounds of Candy Crush on her phone.

"Are you ever not on that thing?" he asked.

He slid onto the bar stool across from her.

Darcy looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "I plead the Fifth. I will say, however, that these things even have books on them. It's not all games and social media."

"I knew that. What kind of books do you have?"

"I don't know, Steve, what do you like to read?"

Steve was caught flat-footed and Darcy stared at him as he thought. Did he really not know?

"There's mysteries, sci-fi, romance…"

"Romance? Really?"

"Hey, it's the 21st century. I'm not here to judge your taste in literature."

Steve's brow drew together as he thought hard. "You know, I've read a decent amount since I woke back up, but a lot of it was hard to get into because there's a whole world of casual reference and pop culture I just don't understand yet. I've been sticking to mostly non-fiction. But I remember this author I got into as a kid…"

"Contemporary to that time? Older?"

"Just a little older. He was writing around the turn of the century. There was a story about some kids and a castle… in another one I think there was a thing called a sand fairy…" Steve trailed off, and Darcy was surprised to see him actually blushing. "I don't know. It was a long time ago."

"No, no, that actually rings a bell. Hang on. Let me use my other brain?"

Darcy held up the phone and wiggled it. Steve nodded assent. Darcy tapped quickly on the touch screen.

"Got it. Five Children and It, by Edith Nesbit. I read it as a kid, too."

"Edith?" Steve asked, leaning in to see the screen. "I didn't know what 'E.' stood for. You've read it? Is it still in print?"

Darcy couldn't help but smile at Steve's shining eyes and carefree expression. Was this what he was like under all the hurry and obligation? He seemed so much younger. She blinked, realizing his cuts and bruises from two hours prior were gone. Just gone. She pulled herself back to the thread of the conversation.

"Yeah, dude. Her books are still famous."

"We've gotta head out," called Nat from the kitchen entryway. "The Avengers are assembling in Willowdale, Virginia."

Steve's expression immediately shuttered, and Darcy sighed to herself. _What a life_, she thought. She could never have been a soldier, at the beck and call of the job, constantly on the go. They stood, all business, and everyone hustled out to a black van waiting in the driveway.

Darcy buckled in and hugged her arms around herself. Just a few more hours, and everything would be all right - she hoped.


	8. Recoil

Darcy nearly fell asleep in the helicopter, despite the overwhelming noise and her own anxiety. _Fucking emotional yo-yo_, she thought to herself. One minute she was blinking back tears, the next passing out during her friend's rescue. She sighed and blinked, peering around.

Steve wore a gray kevlar vest over his fresh t-shirt and kept his shield on his right arm. Nat either had protective padding in her catsuit (Darcy wouldn't be surprised with how great her figure looked) or she liked to live dangerously (also not a surprise). She had strapped on two black thigh holsters with pistols. Darcy caught Nat's eye and smiled.

"You're such a fucking badass," Darcy commented into the headset.

Nat grinned and batted her eyelashes. "The clothes make the man, they say."

"God, I hope not," Darcy replied, looking down at herself. The baggy men's pants nearly had her cringing, but they were still better than the filthy clothes she'd worn for over twenty-four hours straight. She heard Nat chuckle.

"I'm well aware it's not your usual ensemble. Just have to make do for a few more hours, then we'll have you back home."

"I can't wait," Darcy sighed. "So where are we going?"

"It's a little wooded park just a few miles from Culver University. The Avengers are already there with a surveillance van. You'll be joining the support team to provide expertise, as we discussed."

"Cool."

Darcy went back to staring out the window. A cluster of lights on the ground grew brighter as they closed in on their destination.

"Is that Willowdale?" Darcy asked, leaning closer to watch.

"Yes," Nat confirmed. "We're two minutes out. The park is far enough away that any bad actors on campus shouldn't hear us approach, or get a visual."

Darcy pressed her lips together in a thin line as they descended. She hadn't been to Willowdale in nearly four years, but she knew exactly where they were. Brendan's house was barely two blocks away. Her old professor-turned-friend was likely waiting out a tense night, probably under guard, possibly at gunpoint. The thought turned her stomach. And it made her mad.

They landed in a clear, grassy spot. Falcon, Vision, War Machine, and Scarlet Witch were waiting for them, along with a handful of "ops" looking types in black. Darcy gathered she was meant to go with the second group while Steve went with the first. Despite her words to the contrary, she wasn't ready to part ways. She clambered out of the helicopter behind Steve and Natasha, purse strap securely over her shoulder. She took a deep breath of temperate night air. Virginia smelled about the same as she remembered.

Nat stepped confidently toward her teammates. Darcy turned to go with the surveillance people, but then she felt Steve's hand tug at her arm. His fingers slid down and cupped her elbow as he pulled her toward him.

"Darcy, are you sure you're okay with this? You might see some things you'd rather not."

"Absolutely." Darcy lifted her chin and tossed her hair back off her shoulders. "Brendan needs me. There's no question I'm up for it."

Steve gave a single sharp nod. "Okay. I just wanted to be sure. And you know I'll do everything in my power-"

"Yeah, yeah, Steve. I know all that," Darcy said softly, smiling to take the sting from her words.

Steve smiled back. He hesitated, looking down at her, and it was all she could do not to reach up and press her palm to his cheek. _Stupid, Darcy. He's not your hero; he's everyone's hero. He's just doing his job. _

Steve cleared his throat. "Uh, Darcy, after we're through with this mission, when things get back to normal-"

"Yeah, looking forward to that," Darcy agreed quickly. "Normal work, normal routine, normal time with normal friends - I mean, not that this whole experience hasn't been _great_, but um, no, it really hasn't been great."

The joke was super-lame, but Darcy's nerves had kicked in under Steve's lovely eyes and handsome features. When things got back to normal, she'd probably hardly see him again unless she turned into a lunch-time Avenger groupie, watching at the window of the training facility. Normal Steve was a clean-cut dude with a polite smile and ridiculous biceps in too-small workout shirts. Normal Darcy was a snarky lab denizen frequently found brewing coffee or shlepping reams of paper to Jane's office. There wasn't much overlap.

Steve nodded slowly and released her arm. "Yeah. I have a lot of irons in the fire. We've been prepping for several smaller goodwill missions to break in Vision and Scarlet Witch, since they don't have prior combat experience."

"Jane's going to have a field day with the data that's piled up in her absence. I was supposed to be sorting some of it, to make it easier for processing, so I have catching up to do."

Darcy rubbed her arm. It felt warm where Steve had touched her. They both turned toward their respective groups. Darcy took a step forward.

"Guess this is it," she muttered to herself.

Steve somehow managed to hear her. He turned and offered her his left hand.

"It's been a pleasure, Miss Lewis," he said, squeezing her right hand briefly before releasing her.

She let it drop limply to her side.

"Well, that's a total lie," she countered, but she made sure to smile when she said it.

He chuckled, then walked away, all business. If there had been any spell at all, it was broken.

Darcy gave a little sigh as she watched him go. It nagged her, Steve's admitted detachment from the time he found himself in. That night in the hotel, he'd sounded lost. He acted like he always knew what to do, yet he always did what others demanded. Darcy hoped the other Avengers saw past that cool and confident projection. Maybe Falcon; he seemed like a good guy, and she remembered seeing them together in the cafeteria from time to time. The thought comforted her.

She let herself be guided to the surveillance van nestled oh-so-subtly in a gravel lot that accompanied the park's playground. A tall young man took charge of her as she climbed up into the back of the van.

"My name's Dirk," he offered, seating himself and motioning for her to do the same.

"Hi Dirk. Darcy," she replied.

She couldn't get her last glimpse of Steve out of her mind. _Get a grip, Darcy,_ she admonished herself. She shook her head and tried to listen as Dirk explained the various cameras and instruments they'd be using to listen in on the Avenger's operation, but her attention was scattered, at best.

"Hey, Dirk, uh, sorry," she interrupted. "Is there any chance of a cup of coffee? It's been a really long day."

Dirk halted his steady stream of info with a blink.

"Um, sure!" he replied cheerfully.

He leaned back, kicking out his legs to roll to the other end of the van. A pot of drip coffee squatted at the edge of utilitarian shelving designed to hold key- and control boards. He returned with a steaming styrofoam cup in one hand and set it carefully on the shelf between them.

"Do you need like, sugar, or…."

"If you've got it, that's be great," Darcy replied.

She rummaged around in her purse and retrieved three creamers from the breakfast diner in Nowheresville, New York. Come to think of it, she didn't have any idea where that diner had been. Someplace out in the boonies, if they still had pay phones. She remembered Steve's look of disgust at her creamed and sugared coffee and chuckled to herself. Her mirth was short lived, however, as Dirk launched back into his run down of the equipment.

"Okay, did you get all that?" he asked when he'd finished.

"...yeah," Darcy lied.

"Good deal. Now, the team is coming in on the west side of the Poli-Sci department building. Can you suggest an access point?"

Darcy thought for a moment, then recalled a little porch at ground level behind the building and the peeling, outdated maroon door that went with it. It had been the smoker's porch, with a convenient wooden picnic table for breaks between classes. She'd tried social smoking for all of two months as a freshman, but it hadn't stuck.

"There's a door back there. It has a square window, so you can see down the hallway inside. There aren't any offices or anything. It's just one long hallway. I'd be surprised if they haven't posted a guard on it. It's the only entrance or exit on the west side."

"Great!" Dirk enthused.

He tapped quickly at a keyboard, then relayed her information over his intercom. Darcy tried not to roll her eyes. Dirk's chipper attitude was eroding her patience. It wasn't his fault, she knew, but that made no difference. She glanced around at the various monitors. She did a double-take and zeroed in on an innocuous house, viewed straight-on from across the street. Her chest constricted as she recognized Dr. Brendan Mallory's house. So they _were _keeping tabs on his home. The front porch light was on, and a trail of fairy lights led down the center sidewalk of his neatly landscaped lawn. One lamp illuminated a set of gauzy curtains upstairs. Darcy's eyebrows drew together. That _might_ be his study. She couldn't quite remember.

As she watched the screen, the light in the study flickered on and off, on and off, and back on. Darcy stared, puzzled. Why would Brendan flick the lights? Was he up there trying to send some kind of message? Despite Dirk's instruction to divide her attention among all the screens, Darcy kept her eyes glued to Brendan's house, watching for another signal.

Thirteen minutes and three seconds later, the light flickered again. Darcy's suspicion grew. She glanced over at Dirk, who was chatting with another person in the van. She set the timer on her phone and waited impatiently. At thirteen minutes and three seconds the study flickered again. The video feed was on a loop!

"Dirk!" Darcy blurted.

The young man put his attention back on her. Darcy watched his confident demeanor suspiciously and scratched her arm.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she continued. "Where is that?"

"Ugh, sorry. There's a convenience store nearby. It's the best we can do. Here, I'll get you an escort."

Dirk began to stand, but Darcy waved him off.

"It's fine. I'll get one of the guys outside," she said with a chipper smile of her own.

Grabbing her purse, she let herself out of the back of the van and looked around carefully. There was no one immediately in view, but Darcy knew there were at least two other people nearby. She skirted the edge of the street light's downcast beam. No one appeared out of the darkness to ask her what she was doing. Darcy continued across the playground and made her way to Argentum Avenue.

Realizing she might be missed, she picked up the pace as soon as she was on solid asphalt. There were no cars passing in the quiet neighborhood at this time of night. Darcy glanced fearfully around at the ritzy homes and their variety of landscaped bushes and beds, feeling suddenly vulnerable. _What the hell are you doing, Darcy?_ She asked herself. _If you find Brendan, what do you think you can do?_

She nearly turned back, but then Brendan's house was in front of her. It was a really short walk. Darcy ducked down beside a stately oak and pressed herself to the trunk. She peered around at the study window. It was dark. Either Brendan had gone to bed while she walked over, or the video loop was from earlier in the night.

Darcy pulled out her phone, but put it back almost immediately. She didn't have anyone's numbers, except Jane and a couple of people at the New Avengers Facility. She had no way to contact Steve or the others on campus, and _someone_ had looped that feed, so she wasn't going to contact the van - even if she could. She rummaged around some more in the purse and unearthed the earwig Steve had given her. She pressed it into her ear and pushed a button on the side. Silence. She didn't know how to operate it - or maybe it was out of juice.

_Alright Darcy, you got this,_ she assured herself, dropping the earwig back in her bag. She'd just take a tiny peek in the window, and if anything looked weird, she'd run and tell the people in the park. Easy peasy.

Darcy inched around the other side of the oak tree and made her way up the side of Brendan's front lawn. There were plenty of decorative grasses and shrubs to hide behind, plus the occasional large rock. This side, the right side of Brendan's property, brought her to his kitchen window. Darcy took a deep breath and stole across the open grass between his border bed and another garden bed encircling the house. Her feet sank down into soft soil and mulch as she pressed herself against vinyl siding, panting. Darcy's nerves were up, but she felt oddly cool. She decided to go with it.

Glancing up, she knew there was no way she'd reach the kitchen window two feet above her head. She crept along the side of the house until she came to a lower window. Crouching down, she settled below it, then slowly raised up to peep inside. The house was dark, but her eyes had adjusted in the shadowy side yard. Darcy gave a little gasp. Someone was seated in a chair from Brendan's kitchenette set, but she could only see their silhouette. The person slumped to one side, head canted onto his shoulder. Asleep? Or dead? Darcy slipped her hand into her purse.

A quiet click next to her ear made her freeze.

"What have we here?" mocked a familiar voice.

Smug. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

Moving slowly, Darcy put both hands up high.

"Turn around," Smug ordered.

Darcy complied.

At that moment, her phone shrilled from inside her purse, making her flinch. Fortunately, Smug truly was a professional. He didn't move an inch as the first thirty seconds of "Baby Got Back" played through twice.

Frowning sourly, he asked, "I suppose that's the Avengers looking for you? Not to worry."

Smug jammed his hand into her purse, rummaged a moment, and pulled the phone free. He dropped it on a decorative paving stone, then lifted his heel and stamped down on it. The screen shattered and pieces flew as he brought his foot down again and again.

"There. Much better."

Darcy bared her teeth. "Joke's on you, asshole. Three clicks of a button, and I sent my GPS coordinates to my five emergency contacts. This place is about to be crawling with self-righteous hero types."

Smug's eyes widened not with fear, but rage. "You fucking bitch. Move! Now!"

He jerked the nose of the gun toward the back of Brendan's house. Darcy got the picture. She walked ahead of Smug, eyes darting every which way in case there was a chance of escape - not that she'd try with a literal gun to her head. Steve's heroism was rubbing off on her. Or was it recklessness? A second man held the door open as they came inside.

"Get the car started. This location is compromised; we have to go now!" Smug yelled.

The man ran to the garage as Smug prodded Darcy into the kitchen.

Darcy's swirling emotions solidified into terror when she saw Brendan. The house lights were off, but it was a clear night in Willowdale and the moon shone in through windows, providing just enough light to see his sleeping face. He looked haggard, exhausted. She didn't remember him being so old.

Smug set his automatic rifle by the door and relieved Darcy of her purse for the second time. He took her arm to guide her to a chair, but she resisted.

"Can I have a second with him? I haven't seen him in a really long time," she pleaded.

Smug tightened his grip and blew out an exasperated breath. "What do you think this is, a hotel? No!"

With that, he yanked her over to the dinette set and pushed her down into a chair. He grabbed several zip ties from a pack and got started on her ankles. He gripped both of them in one hand. Darcy could feel her ankle bones grind painfully against each other.

"I'm starting to think tying people up is a thing for you," she muttered viciously.

Smug put on a ghastly grin. "Better hope you never find out."

"Who else did you turn? Who set up the video loop? Was it Dirk?"

"Who's Dirk? Look, Darcy, you can bait me all you want, but I'm not going to launch into a super-villain monologue. We're here to get our work done, and get out. So sit down, shut up, and don't cause me any more trouble."

Darcy stared him down, eyes narrowed. There was movement next to her as Brendan stirred.

"Darcy?" he slurred sleepily. He brought his head up slowly. "Ow, my neck."

"Hey, Brendan, it's me. Sorry for the crappy-ass circumstances of our reunion."

"Aah, shit. What are you doing here, Darcy? I was under the impression they were keeping you hidden away until this job-thingie is done. I...I'm sorry, Darcy. I know I should have been stronger."

Brendan's face took on a tragic cast in the moonlight. Darcy sighed as Smug finished binding her legs and tugged at his work to be sure it was secure.

"It's okay, Brendan. One way or another, this will be over soon."

"That's a promise," Smug agreed as he tightened up several zip ties encircling Darcy's wrists.

He yanked them hard, pulling Darcy off the chair. She hit the floor with a grunt. Smug actually laughed.

"Dickhead," she muttered, but he only laughed more.

"Dr. Mallory, it's time to load you up. No worries, we'll just carry you into the van. Don't go anywhere, Darcy. I mean that." Smug gave her a warning glare.

The other man came in from the garage and Smug gestured for him to help move Brendan, chair and all. They dragged him out through a door past the living room. Darcy could hear several grunts, then one loud bang and an 'oof' from Brendan. Next, it was her turn. Smug's associate picked her up like a sack of potatoes over one shoulder and laid her none too gently on the floor of their van. Brendan lay next to her, still tied to the chair.

"Where are they taking us?" he whispered.

Darcy shook her hair out of her eyes and focused on his face, frowning.

"I just don't know."


	9. Game Changer

Steve resolutely turned his mind toward the mission after Darcy joined the tech crew in their van. He sighed internally. At least Dr. Mallory wasn't a boyfriend or ex-boyfriend. Not that it really mattered. Darcy had made her feelings about the last two days pretty clear. Steve was glad she started talking before he embarrassed himself. _Normal time with normal friends_, she'd said. Hints didn't get much clearer than that.

"So what do we know?" he asked, snapping back into the present moment.

Widow had a little smile on her face that he didn't like, but she didn't say anything.

War Machine stepped up. "The conference is going to be held in the Poli-Sci lecture building on Culver's campus. They have one of the biggest lecture halls in the University, so they just use the on-site facilities instead of renting out an event center or hotel ballroom. Conference opens the doors in…" he checked a timepiece on his suit, "five and a half hours."

"There's a Nobel recipient in attendance. Do we know what they are attempting? Kidnapping? Theft? Bombing?"

"Unfortunately, no idea," Widow answered. "I couldn't get it out of Martin if he knows, and Dr. Tennison definitely didn't know. I think Lobano is keeping everyone compartmentalized, to minimize the chances of compromising the mission."

"Lobano?"

"Yeah, Daniel Lobano. I can show you the dossier later. He's got a long history, first in ops and then many, many illegal activities. Apparently his old crew all got sick of how he runs things and cut out after the last mission. This is his new crew." Black Widow rolled her eyes.

"What do we have on the Poly-Sci building? How long has surveillance been set up?" Steve continued.

He looked at their circle with quiet satisfaction. War Machine stood tall and ready. Black Widow was geared up and prepared with the latest intelligence. Vision and Scarlet Witch listened attentively. Falcon's arms were crossed over his chest and he spoke with confidence.

"I did a flyover half an hour ago. Two men came out the east entrance and went back in shortly after. They're dressed as maintenance crew. We've had cameras monitoring for about forty-five minutes, but they haven't given us much information. There _is_ a visible map to the building right next to the main entrance, so we know where the lecture hall is. The map only shows features relevant to students and faculty, though." Falcon shrugged, resettling his EXO-7 pack on his broad shoulders.

"Could've used that blueprint…" muttered Black Widow.

Steve ignored her.

"Have we confirmed Dr. Mallory's location? Darcy thought he'd be at home," Steve asked.

Falcon frowned. "Intel suggests he's been brought to the lecture building already. There's no movement at his house. Tech team is managing surveillance on it."

"So we're going to avoid the main entrance on the east side? Is there another way in?" cut in Scarlet Witch.

"We'll find out on the way," Steve replied. "We now have about four hours before civilians start using these public spaces. We need to discuss options and infiltrate as soon as possible. I'd prefer it if conference attendees and students never even knew we were here."

He turned and jogged toward the campus, the others falling into formation behind him.

"I hate this part. We're just going to hoof it all the way there?" complained Falcon, straining to keep up with Steve.

Steve grinned at him. "It's more subtle than a helicopter at three in the morning, don't you think?"

Falcon kept up the pace for a few more minutes, then groaned and took to the sky.

"Show off!" he called to Steve as he surged ahead.

War Machine turned to Black Widow. "Did we not already cancel the conference? There's a lot of potential for collateral damage."

"No, we woke the Dean from her beauty rest and she sent a campus-wide "gas leak" text to the students and faculty. But Steve's right - it only lasts until seven a.m." Widow replied, readjusting her right gauntlet as they jogged.

War Machine frowned. "Is that wise? Lobano will know something's up."

"Lobano's an asshole, but he's a smart asshole. He hasn't heard from Dreak or Tennison and both Darcy and Cap escaped. He knows we're coming. It's better to make sure no civilians get caught in the crossfire." Widow grimaced.

The main road onto campus was well lit, but the Avengers diverted over to the north side of the massive property. Culver University was nestled near the heart of Willowdale and its founders had wanted plenty of green space. Undeveloped land flanked the north and south sides, affording students the opportunity to run on dirt trails or take meandering nature hikes right on campus. The Political Science Department took up two buildings on the north side. Both pressed right up to groves of old trees. Close to the buildings, landscaped beds of flowers and picnic tables were scattered under the shade of yellow buckeyes, black walnuts, and old oak trees. The communal areas faded to an illusion of wilderness along various trails leading away from the buildings and into the woods.

The Avengers crossed the northern border of the property into the green space. Steve found a dirt trail and followed it inward, his crew tight together behind him. Their trail let out next to the Poli-Sci faculty building. It faced the lecture building, a paved walkway connecting the two. The area was dark save for security lamps that made wide circles on the ground at two corners of the building. Steve held up a hand to stop everyone before they came out of the brush.

The group observed from darkness as a perimeter guard walked the landscaped borders near them and continued west toward the lecture building.

"How long until the next perimeter check?" Steve muttered.

"Half an hour," replied Falcon. "And they are on the minute."

"What's behind the lecture building?"

"Unknown."

"Perhaps we should ask the young lady - Dr. Foster's assistant," suggested Vision.

Black Widow raised a wrist to her mouth. "Good idea."

She relayed the question into her earwig and gave a sharp nod as the answer came back.

"There's a single door on the west side, next to a picnic table. The hallway is blind - long and narrow, with no cover. Maybe we can use some of the basement level windows," she suggested, studying the half-panes coming up from ground level.

"Okay, here's the plan," Steve said.

The quiet conversation stilled.

"Scarlet Witch, you take out the security cameras there, there, and there. And over there," he said, pointing.

"Vision, we're going to try something new - using you as our eyes and ears. You can choose what angle you'd like, but I want you to use your density ability to get into the guts of this building without being seen. Scope out the main lecture hall and the basement teaching rooms first - those are the most likely locations for personnel and supplies. You only need to dip your face in for a moment; pick an obscure area on the ceiling or elsewhere. Get us confirmation of how many we're up against, where Dr. Mallory is located, and what weapons they have.

"Once we hear from Vision, I want War Machine to take the high ground. No one gets away this time. Keep your circle tight and call in Falcon for assistance with runners."

"Won't need it," interjected War Machine with a challenging grin at Falcon.

"How much you want to bet?" Falcon shot back, but they quieted as Steve continued.

"I'm taking the main entrance. Lobano needs a distraction. And I'm sure several of his men want a second chance at me after our last meeting." Steve grinned to himself.

"Falcon, use Vision's intel to find a place to enter - preferably a window on the first or second floor. Neutralize threats and work toward the main lecture hall.

"Widow, you get the hallway. Enter and neutralize any guard set there. Witch, you follow once she confirms it clear. Everyone, keep your eyes and ears open. Be _careful_ and watch each other's backs." Steve caught the gaze of each person with him and nodded.

"Let's get into position. Scarlet Witch, we'll start when you're ready," he said, adjusting the shield on his arm.

_No plan survives first contact with the enemy_, Steve reminded himself as tiny cameras affixed to the buildings shorted out overhead. Vision slipped away. The Avengers waited in complete silence.

"Captain?" Vision reported, his mellow voice in Steve's ear.

"What do you have, Vision?" Steve pressed his earwig close.

"I can tell you what I don't have. Dr. Mallory is not in this building."

Steve swore under his breath.

"Check the faculty building?" Black Widow suggested.

"Yes. Do that, Vision. Can you report on what's happening in the lecture building?" Steve asked.

"I confirm the basement rooms have bomb supplies - as you suspected. There are eleven men here and five are in various stages of preparing and placing the bombs underneath tables in the main lecture hall. Two men are guarding the upstairs classrooms and one is on the basement level. Three are guarding the ground level. Daniel Lobano is not here," Vision reported.

"Alright. Let me know when you've checked the faculty offices," said Steve.

"It's done. The faculty building is completely empty. I suspect that anyone working a late night left when the gas leak warning was announced," replied Vision.

"Lobano and Mallory are both missing..." Black Widow began.

"...so do we stay here or go to Mallory's house?" finished Falcon.

"What's that saying, Falcon? A bird in the hand?" Widow shot back.

"I have a minor - minor - bird theme going, but I will politely ask you to refrain from making bird jokes at my expense," Falcon replied primly.

Steve spoke over Black Widow's chuckle. "Let's move ahead with what we have. Don't allow a single combatant to report out. If Lobano's off-site with Mallory, he believes this operation is going forward without interruption. His belief may be the only thing keeping Mallory alive. I'll still take the east entrance, but without the show. Vision, I could use your assistance there. War Machine, can you get clear to launch?"

He turned to look back at the hero, but all of Steve's team had already disappeared into the brush. Pride swelled in his heart, met with a small, nagging worry. They had to play this carefully.

Steve waited until Vision knocked out the first guard on the east side, then entered the building and took down the remaining guards without a word. He and Vision nodded as Black Widow and Falcon reported in. They converged in the open central area of the building along with Scarlet Witch, then split up. Widow and Falcon took the basement, Vision and Witch went with Steve to the main lecture hall. The entire takedown took absurdly little time.

"Is this how Avengers missions usually go?" asked Scarlet Witch as she pulled hidden bombs free with her power, disassembling them and piling them in the center of the room.

Steve looked up from the man he was handcuffing with a zip tie. Local Willowdale law enforcement had just arrived. They milled around the room, processing Lobano's captured men. Steve settled his unconscious capture against a wall and stepped back. A local detective nodded thanks and moved in.

"If only. I'd call this an anomaly, if a welcome one," he replied.

"Cap?" Black Widow poked her head in at the massive doors of the main lecture hall and peered around until she saw him.

"What's up?" Steve replied, handing off a clipboard with his signature on it.

"You need to come here."

Steve knew Widow well enough now. That was her 'don't freak out on me but this is serious' tone. He exited the lecture hall.

"Darcy left the ops van. She said she was going to the bathroom."

The hairs on the back of Steve's neck stood up. He dreaded asking, but he knew there was more. "And?"

"And five minutes ago, Jane Foster received an emergency text from Darcy's phone - the kind that gives GPS, video, and audio. Darcy's at Mallory's house. Jane said the video showed nothing, but the audio had a male voice saying 'turn around'. That's it." Widow's voice sounded like it was disappearing down a tunnel.

For a minute, Steve's mind blanked to white. Then he looked down and realized he was running. Something irritated his ear. He blinked. He was a block away from Dr. Mallory's house. How long had he been -

"Cap. Cap? Steve!"

The irritation turned into words. It was Black Widow on his earwig. "Steve, I've already dispatched Falcon and War Machine. They're at the house. They say it's clear. Darcy isn't there anymore, Steve."

Widow's voice stayed cool, but Steve could hear the underlying concern. He slowed to a stop outside of Brendan Mallory's house and took a deep breath. His heart raced and it had nothing to do with running. What was he doing? They were in the middle of a mission. "Okay, Widow, I read you. Thanks. I'm meeting War Machine and Falcon right now."

The pair came out from around the side of the building. Falcon shook his head when he saw Steve.

"It's not good, Cap," he said.

A rock settled in Steve's stomach.

"We recovered Darcy's purse and what's left of her phone. No signs of struggle inside, but there's a chair missing from the kitchen table and a pair of drag tracks on the carpet out to the garage. My forensics program indicates a decent amount of weight in the chair; Darcy could have been tied to it," War Machine continued.

"Why the hell did she come here?" Steve muttered to himself.

The house had been cleared and put under surveillance. And yet, Darcy had either come to an empty house and Lobano had tracked her to it, or Lobano and Mallory had been here and Darcy walked in on a hostage situation in progress. It didn't make any sense.

Steve raised his eyes to the men. "Do we have a legal right to interrogate Lobano's team? They're our only leads unless we have some other way to infer where he's gone. Let's get on it. If Lobano doesn't already know we've cleared Culver, he will soon." _And that's not good for Darcy or Mallory_, he thought.


	10. Final Round

An hour after dawn's bright rays split the sky, Steve burst out of the back of a black van, blinking against the sudden influx of light. Falcon stood with his shoulders pressed to the side of the van, sipping a cup of coffee. At Steve's request, and with permission from the Federal agents that arrived about an hour after the Avengers took the poli-sci lecture building, a second van had been dispatched to their location. They were using it for interrogation. Steve sighed deeply.

"That's the last man. He doesn't know anything. Widow's sure of it," he informed Sam.

Sam nodded. "Widow knows her trade."

The silent approach of the woman herself quieted the conversation. The van didn't even shake as she stepped down.

"Steve, you're not allowed to help me anymore. You're fucking up my tactics." Her words held a gentleness that didn't match their harsh content.

Steve folded his arms over his chest and stared at the ground.

"One of them has to know where Lobano took Darcy," he muttered.

A suffocating ball of guilt, anger, and helplessness rose up in Steve's chest, making it hard to breathe. This kind of physical pain had been his constant companion before he joined the army, but the emotional component was new. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He knew he needed to get his feelings under control. His lack of composure probably alarmed his colleagues, something a team leader couldn't afford at any time. But the moment he thought of Darcy's eyes—wide with fear—the pressure came back, pressing painfully against his ribcage. He deliberately inflated the lungs his rational mind knew were in perfect working order. He pushed the long breath back out.

"Steve, look at me," demanded Black Widow.

He drilled her with an angry glare, but she didn't flinch.

"Darcy isn't the mission. She's Lobano's distraction—and hostage. He's playing for higher stakes than this. You know he is. Otherwise he would have cut Darcy and Mallory loose by now and disappeared." Black Widow held his gaze, hands on her hips.

Guilty, Steve dropped his eyes.

"I know that. I know it. But we don't—"

" —trade lives," Black Widow finished for him. "I know it, too, but we have to finish one mission before we start another."

Reluctantly, Steve nodded. She was right, of course. A brief evening spent in Lobano's company revealed he was the kind of man to have backups for his backups, plans squirrelled away for the worst case scenario. It also revealed how truly merciless he was. He'd have no compunction about killing Darcy or Mallory if they slowed him down.

The Avengers had completely shut down his first operation—admittedly, almost by luck. If Lobano had managed to sneak Darcy away in the first breach, no one would have been the wiser when an LMD wearing her face replaced her.

Now the Avengers had screwed up his other mission. Culver University's conference would continue as originally scheduled, minus the bombs and murder. What was left? Ransom? If so, they should have heard from him by now. Revenge? Steve's fingers flexed unconsciously at the thought of Darcy paying the price for their success. He managed to stop himself before he slammed his fist into the side of the van.

"I'm taking a walk," he growled.

The other two watched as he stomped away.

"I'm out of jerks to interrogate," Black Widow announced, turning to Falcon. "Did you and Vision process the house?"

* * *

Darcy squeezed back tears as Brendan Mallory moaned beside her. He was still bound tightly to his kitchen chair, and he looked terrible. _Damn it, Brendan_, Darcy thought, irritated.

His protective instinct had come out while they were in Lobano's van, and mouthing off had earned him a hard blow to the head. He'd already passed out twice. And puked once.

Darcy shivered in the near darkness that enveloped them. Her restraints pressed her in an uncomfortable hug against an old, cold support pillar. A distant _plink_ of water against concrete was the only sound her straining ears could hear. She knew exactly where they were. Culver's not-so-secret underground tunnels were a favorite underclassmen haunt. Most of the branches and avenues were closed off to students, but the path from the Student Union to the poli-sci lecture hall had proved so popular that the school had reinforced the old structures to allow students safe passage and avoid liability. Darcy cast an eye over old signatures, rude jokes, and graffiti decorating the wall next to her. She recalled many rainy afternoons when she'd rushed to class through this particular tunnel, grateful to avoid an above-ground drenching.

The tunnel was closed off due to the conference. Or, more likely, Lobano's goons had closed it off and no one thought to question it. At any rate, Darcy knew no one was coming. The sound of footsteps mingling with the drip of water had to be her imagination. Or were they? Darcy's heart fluttered with hope for just an instant. Then her insides plummeted when she twisted around to see Lobano return with two others.

The goon from Brendan's house carried something in careful hands, but she only noticed him for a second. The woman walking in with them sent a shock down to Darcy's toes. She knew what she— it— was, but even so, the experience of watching the LMD with her face cross the room and stop, arms folded and eyes on Darcy, made her cold in a way the tunnel couldn't.

Lobano's face was more grimace than grin as he came forward and untied Darcy. Her arms involuntarily dropped to her sides, feeling ten pounds heavier than normal. She raised them slowly and rubbed her raw wrists. Backing up against the wall behind her, she tried to keep eyes on all three figures in front of her. They each felt equally dangerous.

"Okay, strip," Lobano instructed, gesturing impatiently at Darcy and the LMD.

"What?" Darcy asked, incensed.

The LMD immediately shucked off shoes and shirt. Darcy clutched her hands to her sides as Lobano frowned.

"You two are switching clothes. Unless you'd like to be shot in the head right now, Miss Lewis." Lobano patted a holstered pistol at his waist, but didn't draw it. He didn't need to. The LMD was down to skivvies, and continued to remove clothing. Darcy reluctantly followed suit.

She hesitated as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. "Do you mind turning around?"

"No, but we promise not to leer if it makes you feel better," replied Lobano.

It actually did, Darcy realized. Seeing no alternative, she stripped down. The LMD was nude opposite her and held a pile of clothes. It stared at her curiously. That was when Darcy noticed its knees turn a mottled blue and brown, its arms appear to grow several bruises, and scrapes appear on its cheeks and forehead. Darcy looked down at herself, startled. Her knees were a patchwork of bruised coloring, and she was pretty generally beat up all over. _Shit._ She had no idea LMDs could imitate a human this way. Once they switched clothes, the LMD would be her identical replacement.

They traded clothes and dressed. At least she was going to her death in clean underwear, Darcy thought. Her mother would be proud. Darcy glanced at Brendan, who had fallen unconscious again.

"He needs medical attention. He's really hurt," she pleaded, unable to stop herself.

Lobano ignored her and turned to the LMD.

"The final touch," he muttered, producing a flash drive.

He pressed a finger to its hip and something gave way, allowing him to insert the memory stick. Darcy could have sworn she saw its eyes flash. Then its stance shifted. A dizzy sense of _deja vu_ washed over Darcy as the LMD affected a slumped posture, a listless tilt to its head. It looked as exhausted as Darcy felt. It looked like a mirror image.

This time, Lobano grinned for real.

"It's done. It's ready," he laughed.

"What did you do?" Darcy blurted.

"Oh, I just loaded up the new Darcy with old Darcy's memories from the last six months. She's ready to play your role. Should be able to get her into the Avengers facility, too. She looks just like you, doesn't she?"

"You— you're lying. You can't have my memories, that's impossible. That's insane," babbled Darcy, thinking hard. When could they have messed with her head? Wouldn't she feel something? A headache at least?

"Well, you're half right. The LMD is constructing memories from the information I gave it. Martin Dreak bugged your phone six months ago, and if I've learned one thing about you, Miss Lewis, it's that you don't go anywhere without your phone. Everything you've said and every place you've been is now in new Darcy's memory— not to mention emails, texts, purchases… everything about you. It's a shame the Avengers didn't pay Martin a little more. He really is a genius with software." He turned to the LMD. "It's time. Go get rescued."

The LMD blinked, and the last vestige of doll-like imitation disappeared. Her brow furrowed, tears welled up, and she staggered away toward the lecture hall, one hand groping for support. Darcy watched herself go, mind oddly blank. She had no clue what to do now. Only then did she remember Lobano's friend, who stepped forward. He held up a vest covered in wires and small packages.

"No fucking way!" yelled Darcy.

She darted to the left of Lobano and the other man, toward darkness and a possibly populated Student Union, but it didn't work. Lobano caught her around the middle and lifted her into the air. She kicked viciously, but hit only empty space. She tried to send her head back into Lobano's face, but he evaded easily.

"Enough," he growled. "I'll shoot Mallory right now."

"Why wait? You're going to put a bomb on me, and I'm supposed to believe you'll keep him alive? No!" Darcy twisted and wriggled and kicked, but Daniel Lobano was deceptively strong. She couldn't break his grip or even get her feet back on the ground. She finally ceased her panicked motions, too exhausted to continue.

Lobano's voice took on a soothing note in her ear as she panted. "I'm not gonna blow you up. It's just insurance. Barry and I want to get away clean. You provide the distraction, that's all. The Avengers will be too busy disarming your vest to worry about us. Get it?"

Darcy only half-believed him, but half a chance was better than none. She gave a sharp nod. "What are you going to do with Brendan?"

Lobano considered. "He can stay here. I don't need him anymore."

Barry came forward as Darcy struggled to steady her shaky legs.

"Put your arms out and don't make any sudden movements," he instructed.

Lobano watched for a moment, then nodded, satisfied. "I'm getting the van. Meet me at the rendezvous point when everything is ready."

Barry grunted assent as he loomed over Darcy. Lobano exited into darkness, his steps echoing then dying away.

Darcy threaded her arms into the vest, careful not to touch it. Barry settled it on her shoulders and placed a metal tube in her hand.

"Press your thumb down on the button at the top. Good. Now, don't let it go unless you want to die."

The blunt warning set Darcy's heart racing and turned her hands to ice. _Oh, my god. This is really it_, she thought. _I'm gonna die_. She looked down at Barry, who knelt to finish securing the zipper. Before she knew what she was doing, Darcy's knee shot up and made a bloody pulp of Barry's nose with a sickening crunch.

"Gahhh!" he exclaimed, jumping back with both hands at his face. Blood leaked out between his fingers and down his chin.

Some distant self-defense lesson memory bubbled up and Darcy brought her booted foot down as hard as she could on the side of Barry's knee. He crumpled to the floor in pain, one hand clutching his face and the other groping at his leg.

Fight expended, Darcy's flight instinct took over. Gripping the button in her hand, she pelted down the long tunnel toward the lecture hall and never once looked back.

* * *

Steve returned to the two Avenger vans with his head in a slightly better place. He climbed up into the surveillance van and set his shield down against one wall.

"Any change?" he asked, knowing that Black Widow would have told him if there were.

Natasha leaned back, her sleek black jumpsuit looking out of place in the rolling office chair she occupied. "Falcon and War Machine are flying a surveillance pattern, spiraling out over the town. I have Scarlet Witch and Vision posted on campus, staying out of sight and searching the nooks and crannies. They haven't seen anything yet."

Steve nodded glumly and leaned over a metal countertop, pressing both fists into the surface. He bowed his head, keeping his gaze between his gloves.

"It's driving you crazy," Natasha said softly. It wasn't a question.

Steve avoided her eyes. "I told her I'd keep her safe."

A crooked grin parted Nat's teeth. "Steve, I'm willing to accept that one of us is an idiot, but it's not me. So don't even try. This is more than the usual sense of honor and duty."

Steve lifted his head, his gaze flicking from Natasha to Dirk down at the other end of the van, but he didn't say anything.

"Don't make me torture you," threatened Nat.

"Too late," Steve joked and she rolled her eyes.

"All I'm saying is, it's nice to see you finally—"

Steve didn't let her finish.

"Is this live?" he interrupted, pointing to a screen.

The image on camera showed Culver's poli-sci lecture hall. Well-dressed people milled around, finding their seats at white-clothed tables, unaware that those same tables had hidden bombs only a few hours before. Steve and Nat turned to Dirk. He glanced up, befuddled, and waddle-rolled over to them.

Craning his neck to look over Black Widow's shoulder, he nodded confirmation. "Yeah. We tapped into Culver's security feed to track your progress when you infiltrated. Why—oh!"

Dirk doubled over as Black Widow violently elbowed him away and sent his chair rolling to the other end of the van. She jumped up and stared at the screen, her jaw hard. When she spoke, the words were ice.

"What the fuck is Darcy Lewis doing in that room?"

Steve had already jumped down through the van's open doors.

"Rhodey!" he roared.

War Machine had Steve over the poli-sci lecture building in less than two minutes.

"Just drop me!" Steve yelled into the wind.

Rhodes ignored his urgency and brought them both down near the east entrance. A startled crowd of conference participants in formal business attire parted politely as the two rushed in.

They could hear shouting and screams as they entered the central area of the lecture building. The doors of the main hall burst open and a rush of panicked people greeted them as they moved inward. Steve threaded through the crowd, pushing his way into the room. He could see a commotion at the keynote speaker's table over the heads of those running away.

Steve slowed, then blinked, taking in the sight of not one, but two Darcys screaming at each other in front of the speaker's table. The Nobel recipient and a frightened coterie of prestigious guests huddled against the wall behind it.

"Widow, can you see this on-screen?" he asked via earwig.

"Negative," came the breathless reply. "I'm not in the surveillance van. Wait for me next time, you jerks."

Both women were the same height, with the same hair. One Darcy—his Darcy?—wore a t-shirt with a shield across the chest and a pair of too-large jeans under its untucked hem. She stood between the other Darcy and the table, arms outstretched.

The other Darcy turned Steve's blood cold. She wore a clean set of the t-shirt, skirt, and tights from two days ago, but more importantly, she wore a wired vest covered in explosives. Her hand, high in the air, clutched a metal tube with a button under her thumb. War Machine skidded to a stop beside Steve and raised his forearm, but Steve gently pushed it down.

"You can't," he said, throat tight. "It's a deadman's switch."

"_What's_ a deadman's switch?" he heard Black Widow ask in his ear.

"Oh," she continued softly, in person, as she arrived at his other side.

"Widow, what is going on here?" Steve demanded in a whisper.

"It's been a weird two days, Cap. I may have forgotten to mention they recovered the LMD," she replied tersely.

"Forgotten?" he nearly looked at her, but the bomb vest had his full attention.

"It's not my best moment," Black Widow admitted.

The Darcy in the shield shirt caught sight of Steve and turned.

"Oh, thank God. Steve, she's gonna blow this whole place! I was trying to keep her from the keynote speaker."

Sweat beaded her brow and she breathed hard from exertion. Steve thought he saw a little tremor in her hands.

"Shut the fuck up," Darcy Two snapped. "You know that's not what's happening. Steve, I got her _away_ from the speaker before she could kill him. You need to restrain her. _Now_. She's a threat!"

Darcy Two waved the switch wildly, causing gasps to ripple through the room. Steve stared hard at one, then the other, but he couldn't be sure. Both women had identical scrapes and bruises. Lobano could have forced them to switch clothes. Either one could be lying. The bomb threat, however, needed to be dealt with sooner than later.

He presented his shield to both women and slowly set it at his back, then displayed empty hands to both of them. "Okay, ladies, we are going to talk this one out. Take it nice and slow. Why don't we let these nice people leave first?"

"_No!_ She's an LMD, she'll just blow us up!" shrieked Darcy One.

She edged over between Steve and the people on the dais. War Machine shifted uncomfortably on Steve's left, but Black Widow stayed frozen on his right. Steve's eyes switched from one woman's face to the other.

"We won't get anywhere like this," he muttered.

"We need a distraction," agreed Black Widow.

The scene in front of them stayed tense as Darcy Two took a half-step toward the Avengers, then thought better of it. She shuffled back a bit and the people behind her scattered. A few broke for the door and cleared it. Neither Darcy appeared to notice. Black Widow kept a hand at her hip, but didn't draw.

Steve pleaded with Darcy Two directly. "You've got to give me something to work with, Darcy. Either that, or surrender. We'll take you both into custody and sort things out."

Darcy Two laughed bitterly and shook her head.

"Lobano got me good, Steve. Slimy bastard made me switch clothes with her. They bugged my phone with a recording app six months ago, so _she_ knows everything about me—everything I've said, every place I've been, every text and email. I can't prove I'm me." Her voiced cracked on the last word and she closed her eyes, a look of desperation on her face.

"Tell me about it," Darcy One complained, a nervous edge to her words. "I was going to say the same thing. She's playing tricks, giving you lies wrapped up in the truth."

Darcy Two shook her head forcefully. Her tight fists trembled in anger.

"I told you to shut it. No one needs to hear from the literal motor mouth. I know you're just a machine, but I'm going to kick your ass so hard when this is over," she harped.

"Focus, ladies! There is a bomb strapped to one of you!" barked War Machine, exasperated.

Steve raised an eyebrow over his shoulder. War Machine shrugged.

"Sorry," he said.

Steve tried Darcy One again. "Don't you think it would be safer if the two of you let us escort you out, and…"

Darcy One shook her head furiously, a mirror image of Darcy Two. Steve felt like he was seeing double. A tear slipped down Darcy Two's cheek.

"She's not going to let us leave, Steve. I told you that already. She knows everything— _everything_. God, this is so screwed up. Unless...wait. Steve."

Darcy Two's stance straightened a bit, causing the vest to shift. She looked down at herself in horror but when nothing happened, she slowly brought the switch to her chest and spoke again. "Lobano threw my purse out on the way to that cabin. No need for it when he was right there watching us, right?"

"Sure, Darcy. I remember that," Steve encouraged, subtly sliding closer, looking for an opening.

Darcy Two licked her dry lips. "He didn't plan on us escaping. He didn't plan on us stealing a car."

Steve gave a single, sharp shake of his head, but it was for Widow and War Machine. Darcy Two didn't appear to notice. She drilled him with a look, clutching the deadman's switch tight.

"No one heard what we talked about in there. Do you remember? Ask her what I told you. It's still true. _Ask her_. She can't tell you. She doesn't know."

Steve stopped short, shoulders tensing. Silence swallowed the room. He looked into the tear-streaked face and he _knew_. This was _Darcy_. He knew why she'd come back to the hall instead of looking for help. She had been looking for him. To help him. It was all he could do not to rush forward and rip the explosives off of her. His hands dropped to his sides.

"Darcy, I—"

A screaming blur entered from his left, and before he could move, the LMD planted a fist in Darcy's eye, knocking her off-balance. A small hole bloomed in the center of its forehead, courtesy of the pistol Black Widow held steady at eye level. Both the LMD and Darcy fell back toward the floor, Darcy's grip on the metal tube slipping.

"Everybody BACK!" shouted Steve.

He threw himself and his shield onto Darcy, covering as much of the vest as he could before they slammed into the floor.

* * *

Pain exploded in Darcy's face as the LMD's fist connected. The unexpected sensation caused her hands to flex, and too late, she remembered exactly why she shouldn't do that. A gun discharged nearby, she found she was falling, a massive force plowed into her midsection, and then her spine and head painfully whacked the thinly carpeted concrete floor of Culver's main poli-sci lecture hall. She squeezed her eyes closed, expecting never to open them again. Nothing happened.

Surprised, she fluttered them open to find herself flat on her back under 220 uncomfortable pounds of American superhero, plus a vibranium shield. Steve's heavy chest expanded with quick breaths, forcing her own puny human ribs to make way and flatten. The explosive contraption snugged around her body dented her breasts and back with sharp, painful angles.

Darcy looked down. Her hands were empty. Most of her upper body was shadowed under Captain America's famous shield along with the man himself. A blond head she'd spent way too much time thinking about tilted up to look at her. She could feel his heavy exhalations across her face, but couldn't read his expression through an eye that was quickly swelling shut. His breath was warm and pleasant.

"Darcy!" Steve choked out. "You're not dead!"

Then he kissed her. Hard.


End file.
